


Framed

by HyphenL



Series: Soft Blue, Deep Red [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hannibal is not a killer, Hannigram - Freeform, He still has a tragic past though, Loss of Trust, M/M, Protective!Will, Sass, So he's still a tad disturbed, Trust Issues, Vulnerable!Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 16:54:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyphenL/pseuds/HyphenL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not-a-murderer Hannibal is attacked, but everybody suddenly catches up on the former-surgeon, working-with-the-FBI-on-Ripper-cases thing and assumes he is the attacker. He claims to be innocent, but obviously no-one believes him.</p><p>Sequel to The Frilly Frisky Panties Of Courage, in which Hannibal and Will get together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Accused

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by Toft, whom you can find on AO3 too.

“How did this happen?” Graham asked Jack over the hospital telephone. “No, don't yell. I know he can't hear you over the phone, but it's making me cranky. What, get away from him? I'm not going to hurt him Jack –oh wait, he's waking up, got to hang up. I'll get back to you.”

Hannibal looked so out of place in the tiny hospital bed. He might have enjoyed the neatness of it though.

He fumbled in the sheets before opening his eyes and blinking. When he noticed Will the corner of his eyes creased in a discreet smile; then he winced because of the large bruise on his left cheek.

“How are you feeling?” Will asked, sitting next to him on the bed. “The doctor said you shouldn't move too much, but otherwise you should be fine with a few days' rest.”

Hannibal looked at him calmly, but with a slightly confused look on his face.

“What happened?” he asked. “I remember exiting Jose's and...” He winced. “I think I was attacked.”

“You were” Will answered gently, making an effort to look in the general direction of Hannibal's eyes. “But aside from being knocked out unconscious, there should be no consequences.”

“Did I get robbed?” Hannibal asked –more to assess the situation than to actually check on the state of his material possessions. “I believe... there was a knife.”

“Jack hasn't filled me on the details yet.”

“There was...”

“You should rest. Think about all that afterwards, when you are cured.”

“A few bruises are not going to stop me.”

“No, but they're a good excuse for me to keep you pinned to bed.”

Hannibal blinked a few times.

“I am starting to appreciate your innuendoes” he smiled, fondly.

“And I appreciate your appreciation of them” Graham grinned. “Are you too wounded to kiss?”

“I would hope not.”

Graham smiled and leaned in. His phone buzzed.

“It seems like Agent Crawford is trying to get your attention” Hannibal whispered.

“He's just trying to cock-block me. And I now see on your face I shouldn't have used that idiom.”

“No, it's... fresh.”

Graham smiled and gently kissed him. “If by that you mean 'utterly indecent'” he said, mimicking Hannibal's way of speaking.

His phone buzzed again.

“How did you say?” Hannibal murmured in-between smooches. “C... Blocking?”

“If it were for him we'd never have sex.”

“We... have not performed intercourse yet” Hannibal pointed out.

“Probably because you call it that” Will mused, sliding fingers through Hannibal's hair.

“I am an old man, William.”

“Who will probably die a virgin.”

“I told you–” Will's phone buzzed again.

“Maybe you should pick up.”

“Maybe, but I don't want to. Jack can wait through me kissing you. Hell, he'll have to.”

It felt good to make Hannibal happy after the events. Seeing the little crease at the corner of his half closed eyes, and the way he let himself sink into the kiss –which happened more and more often. It wasn't really surprising though; Hannibal had a thing for the sensual.

He was still quite shy about properly touching Will though, as if he wasn't really sure about the thin line between decent and not. Graham compensated by thoroughly messing his hair and clothes up when he could. Like, right now.

His phone buzzed again and a series of determined footsteps resounded in the nearby corridor.

“I think you have guests” Graham said, stealing a regretful last kiss. “We'll discuss about whatever later.”

Hannibal smiled slightly, in his discreet yet tender way. Will felt like he was liking him more and more with every passing day. Or second.

The door burst open, and Jack barged in. “Will, when you're in service, _I want you to pick up your damn phone_. Am I making myself clear? Now get away from the bed.”

Graham's eyebrows rose up.

“Good morning to you too, Jack” Hannibal said pointedly.

“Don't you 'Jack' me, Doctor,” Crawford said while yanking Graham by the arm.

“What is going on?” Will asked with irritation. “Why did you bring police officers?”

“We're here to arrest that man” Jack said, and with that the officers proceeded to cuff ~~ing~~ Hannibal's wrists to his bed. “As soon as we can manage, he'll be transported to the Baltimore State Hospital For The Criminally Insane.”

“What?” Will exclaimed. “You must be joking!”

“Is there something I did?” Hannibal asked –looking very collected to everyone but Will, who could see the tiny tell-tale signs of his confusion.

“Jack, you have to fill me in on this” Graham insisted. “You are making no sense.”

“He's the Chesapeake Ripper,” Jack spat, looking at Hannibal with the coldest eyes. “Former surgeon, working with the FBI, with the cultural background that goes with murdering someone and making it look like a Saint Sebastian painting. I don't know how we didn't see it before, but the evidence is there. Plus, we have a witness.”

Hannibal's mouth gaped slightly open in dismay.

“A-a witness?” Graham stammered. “What are you... He was the one attacked!”

Jack sent him a look of cold fury. “Is that what he said? His victim begs to differ.”

“To be fair, I don't remember much” Hannibal offered quietly.

Jack looked at him with a coldness that would have frozen a volcano.

“We have to look at this rationally” Will exclaimed, irritated at Jack's rushing. “How do we even know this 'witness' is reliable?”

Jack looked at him in pity. “It's Alana, Will. Alana he attacked. She's here, at this hospital right now; she's being treated for minor injuries –thank god. The maniac got to her with a knife.”

Will's mind felt like boiling water. He looked at Jack and sensed nothing but righteous indignation, and a cold rage that smelled of resentment and bitter victory. The officers only exuded disdain for their prisoner. And Hannibal was afraid.

To anyone he would have looked simply surprised, maybe slightly offended by the implications of Jack's speech; but Will could see pass that; he could read the thousand little expressions that passed on Hannibal's face. They were of confusion, disbelief, hurt. Fear.

“I did not attack anyone” he said.

“Shut up” Jack answered. “Will, come with me; we have to talk.”

“I'm not leaving until you tell me exactly what's going on!” Graham refused. “If Alana was attacked, she might be confused; maybe she mistook someone else for Hannibal.”

“I think that's what we all did” Jack answered, getting something out his jacket. “We found this at his home.”

It was a picture; he was showing him a picture. Graham took it and looked at it in incomprehension. “What am I looking at?”

“A fridge. Those would be liver remains. Tidily disposed of in a small tupperware; he is quite OCD, we should have know.”

Usually Graham would have picked on the offensive comment, but his brain seemed to have shut down. “So?” he said. “Is eating offals a crime now?”

“ _Human_ liver. From the Ripper's latest kill.”

Will's hands started shaking **.** “This must have been planted on him.”

“Fingerprints everywhere. There's even an eyelash of his in the sauce. Apparently maniacs aren't always as thorough as they think.”

Will looked at Hannibal, bruised and tied up to the hospital bed, a look of confusion in his eyes.

“I am not a killer” he stated, as calmly as he could master. “Nor a... cannibal. William is right, this must have been planted on me.”

“I am not convinced” Jack said, “and I don't think the jury will be either. Those are your last moments of freedom **,** Doctor. Will, let's get going.”

“Will” Hannibal called, and Graham froze where he stood. “Please investigate.” He seemed to calm down when he looked at him. “I have never murdered anyone. I am sure you will find proof of it.”

“He's not working for you” Jack barked, taking Graham by the arm to lead him towards the door.

The maroon eyes followed Will out with a lazy blink, Hannibal's face quiet and confident, as if whispering _I trust you_.


	2. Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has trouble getting to terms with Hannibal being the Ripper.

  
__  


_When Will opened the door Hannibal was standing behind it, the sun_ _at his back, looking like a shadow silhouette cut in black silk paper._ _“Good morning, Will.”_

“ _Isn't it awfully early for you to be coming here? I thought you'd patients to entertain today.”_

_Hannibal bowed lightly. “I only meant to bring you breakfast; I know you have a long day ahead of you. May I come in?”_

“ _Sure.” Will went back to his kitchen and let him follow. He was still in the shirt and briefs he had slept in, while Hannibal was perfectly dressed up as always. He wished the man_ _had given him a call._

_He sleepily gulped a mouthful of bitter coffee, hoping to straighten his head out. Hannibal had displayed a tupperware and a thermos on the counter; he was waiting for Will to finish his drink to speak._

“ _Yes?” Will asked, a tad dryly –mornings didn't become him, especially not when they came with the ambush of a too perfect boyfriend._

“ _I will be on my way” Hannibal stated casually. “Would it be alright if I kissed you before going?”_

 _Will almost_ _choked on his drink. “You're going? Why?”_

“ _I'm afraid I have some paperwork left at my office” the man answered –lying._

_He had probably picked up on Will's discontent and was trying to make courteous amends._

“ _You came all the way over!” Will protested. “There's no way I'm letting you go now. You're having breakfast with me, and no isn't an option.”_

_Hannibal considered him thoughtfully. “I apologise for my rudeness” he said. “I should have called beforehand. I didn't mean to intrude.”_

“ _You're not intruding” Will sighed, wrapping his lover in a warm hug. “But yeah, give me a call, next time. You pop up here looking like the perfect gentleman and I'm only barely awake. Makes me feel like a loser.”_

“ _While it should make you feel happy,” Hannibal commented in a low voice, probably pondering out loud. “Like it does me.”_

_Graham shivered. “I am happy” he said, and he gently nuzzled the side of Hannibal's jaw. “Not very awake, granted, but glad that you're here.”_

_Hannibal nodded, and let a little smile curve the side of his lips. “Next time, I will call.”_

 

*

 

“It can't be him, Jack. We simply have no evidence –not enough to prove anything.”

“We have that tupperware.”

“With fingerprints and an eyelash. It could have been planted on him. Easily so.”

“You seem to forget the fact that he _attacked Alana_.”

Graham quivered. “She's still in shock. Maybe she was drugged. Maybe she's lying.”

“Do you hear yourself Will? _Did you hear what you just said?_ ” Jack growled.

“I know how it sounds, but it's still a probability. We can't overlook it just because we want to.”

“Will, you're saying Alana Bloom might be trying to frame Hannibal. _Alana_. Who has never been a surgeon, is highly recognised as the most compassionate therapist in her field and has done nothing but protect you.”

“You've seen the files. He wasn't even around for at least two of the Chesapeake murders. And we might find more. Either we've made a mistake, or there's another Ripper. And when I say another, I meant the actual Ripper. Who is not Hannibal.”

“Are you in denial?” Jack asked in disbelief. “Will, we found a whole bunch of human body parts disseminated in that man's house. Parts that he apparently uses as snacks during his little dinnerparties. With us as _guests_.”

Graham opened his mouth but Crawford cut him short. “And we keep finding more! I swear the man's a squirrel.”

“And you don't think that's odd. That a man who internally freaks out about a pencil not being parallel to the border of his desk would stuff decomposing body parts in every crack of his very pricy house?”

“What I find odd is that you won't admit the evidence.”

“Evidence might have been planted–”

“Pull your head together, Agent Graham. I understand that you're upset that your therapist is the Ripper, but you have to stay level-headed.”

“Upset? _Upset?_ Geez Jack, I wonder where you'd get that idea. And don't speak of Hannibal as the Ripper. We know nothing for sure yet.”

“Will, we have material proof. What we need now is to connect the dots. Prove that he had the occasion and means to commit the murders.”

“Or prove that he's been framed.”

“He is _at least_ an accomplice of the murders. And he fits your profile perfectly.”

Graham frozen. “Not my profile, he doesn't” he said slowly. “I had never been a hundred per cent sure he would be a surgeon...”

At that moment, Jack's desk phone rang.

“Whose profile are you talking about, Jack?” Graham asked while the man answered. “Is this about Miriam Lass?”

Jack made a shushing gesture.

“That was Price” he said after his call was done. “Hannibal is on the list of surgeons Miriam would have had to visit in order to find the Ripper.”

Graham's heartbeat rose. “That can't be.”

“We even have a potential witness. Apparently, that's the day he had an interview about his latest medical paper. If we can find the reporter who performed it, we might get proof that Miriam met him.”

“And if we can't?”

“He's still on the list. That makes a lot of coincidences for someone innocent.”

“Okay, so he fits the profile, was a surgeon, had access to some of our files, and met one of the victims –perhaps two. That doesn't automatically makes him the killer.”

“You forgot about his stash of human flesh at home, and his attacking Alana.”

Will ran his fingers through brown curls. “Alright, so that's a lot.”

Jack scrutinised his anxious agent. “I don't know why you're so prone to defending him. He was your therapist, sure, but that doesn't make him immune to being a serial killer and you know it. Or is there something I don't know?”

Graham bit his lip.

“ _Is there something I should know, Will?_ ” Crawford insisted.

Will shook his head. “I'll look into his alibis. Check on his availability at the time and place of the murders.”

Jack nodded. “We've finally got the bastard” he said. “Let's make sure he doesn't get away.”

Graham nodded, but his heart felt heavier than stones.

 

_Hannibal smiled when the door opened. “Good morning, William.”_

“ _Hannibal, hey!” Will grinned, still dizzy from sleep and wearing the usual, crumpled T-shirt and briefs.“How are you?”_

_The older man nodded slightly; he looked tired. Happy, though. “I brought you breakfast. May I come in?”_

“ _My door's always open to you, love” Will answered carelessly. “I've got orange juice, milk and strawberry jam.”_

_Hannibal looked pleasantly surprised._

“ _Well yeah, that happens when you warn me that you'll be coming” Will smiled, half mocking. “I even have bread. Talk of a change.”_

_On the counter, Will's phone buzzed. “Damn” he sighed. “I have to take this, it's probably Jack. Start without me, alright?”_

_Hannibal nodded, masterfully concealing his disappointment –though never enough to fool Will. Graham gently stroked his hair and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I'll be only a minute.” The other nodded, but seconds after Will came back with his Jack-wants-me-on-a-crime-scene-NOW face._

“ _I'm sorry” the young man sighed. “You'll have to eat without me, I'm wanted at once. Take your time, okay? I'll just ask you to leave the back door_ _open after you go so the dogs can go out.”_

_Hannibal nodded lightly, choosing not to speak to conceal his feelings better. William took his head between his hands and gently kissed him. Hannibal was daring to lift a hand to put on the other's waist when he pulled away. “Have a good day, alright?” Will said. “Anyway, we'll see each other tomorrow.”_

“ _At least, take some of it with you” Hannibal said, already reuniting enough of their untouched meal for a decent breakfast. He saw Will's_ _hesitation while looking at the tupperware._

“ _If scrambled eggs are too... uncommon at your workplace, you can always eat them in your car” he cautiously pointed out, already packing a fork and knife along with the tupperware in a clean hand-towel._

“ _I'm more afraid of them stealing it from me” the Agent replied. “Or getting really, really jealous. ...Which I can live with” he added, smiling. He kissed Hannibal on the lips and put the package on the end of the counter. “I'll go put on some clothes. You start eating, 'kay?”_

_He disappeared into his room and came back moments later wearing his usual, messy outfit. He was on the phone again, talking to Jack in irritation. He paused a second to go back to Hannibal and gently kissed him goodbye, then resumed his conversation before rushing through the door, clipping his phone to the inside of his car in order to pursue his talking while driving._

_Hannibal heard the car door shut just as he was getting out the house, carrying a small package, Will's dogs joyfully rummaging around his ankles. As the car disappeared away, he looked at the excited pack, a strange sadness creeping through his chest._

“ _I hope you are hungry” he said, softly. The dogs joyfully yelped._


	3. Distrusted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will pays a visit to Hannibal, who tries to manipulate Will into investigating Alana as a potential Ripper.
> 
> NB: The canon is altered so in this AU Hannibal's Aunt and Uncle are both living in Paris at the time of the events.

When Graham reached Hannibal's cell this time, the man was sitting at his simple desk, with an opened letter in his hands.

“So, you do have friends” Will said, feeling that was maybe a little harsh –then remembering the man was a nasty serial killer.

Hannibal neatly put the paper and envelope away and rose up to face him. He seemed tired.

“My Uncle” Hannibal answered. “I suppose the joke is on you, as the idiom goes. As obviously I _do not_ have friends left and, as from now, no family either.”

As well as no practice, but that was kind of a given in prison.

“Maybe you could have thought of that before starting to savagely murder people.”

Hannibal's face grew impossibly neutral. It was like looking at water solidify instantly into a block of ice. “On the bright side” he stated blankly, “I have been receiving many interview offers from brilliant psychologists, some very disturbing fan mail and a marriage proposal. So I am not totally out of options.”

Graham scoffed. “You seem in oddly good spirits for a killer who just got caught.”

“I am trapped in a tiny, uncomfortable jail cell. Uncle disowned me, my Aunt would not even send a word on the matter; I have lost my office, my friends, my... and soon, possibly, my life. If I do not stay optimistic, I will most probably go mad before the trial has even started.”

“You are in an hospital for the criminally insane Hannibal. Take a clue.”

The other man nodded, once, neatly. “I suppose you did not come here to see _me_. What does the FBI want?”

Will shivered. Hannibal was so still and neutral in his attitude he couldn't read him at all. It was terrifying, like talking to a ghost. A sculpture. Or an object.

“A confession” he answered. “Apparently, the fact that your fingerprints were all over your little cannibal treats could not be enough to send you to death row. Jack doesn't like it.”

Hannibal stood still for exactly five seconds before answering. “What would you like, Will?” he asked. “Would you rather see me dead, or jailed for life?”

“I really have no opinion on the matter.”

Hannibal observed him.

“What were you expecting? A heartfelt confession of how I can't live without you?”

“I supposed I wished for a straight answer” Hannibal replied slowly. “But I am not sure I truly want to hear it.”

“No, you probably don't.”

There. Hannibal had tensed slightly, giving Graham a glance of the distress he was desperately trying to keep hidden. He had to remind his heart that he didn't like the man anymore.

“If you want a confession, you will have to grant me another favour. If you would indulge me” Hannibal stated in a very professional tone, just as if this was an appointment.

“I am all out of indulgence.”

“When I came here, I had a locket, that was taken” Hannibal continued, ignoring him. “It has a picture of my parents and sister in it. I would like my Uncle and Aunt to have it, if that is possible. To be put in my family's tomb.”

“I'm not your mailman.”

“I do not trust Chilton with this. And even though you have no reason to... indulge me, as you said, I still hope you would do that for me.”

Will rose his eyebrows and half his mouth in a scornful smile.

Hannibal swallowed. “As you wish” he answered. “I suppose my lawyer might be able to help me with that.”

“On second thoughts, I'd like very much to get my hands on this pendant. I wonder why you are so insistent on getting rid of it.”

Hannibal hesitated. Then he forced himself to relax. “Would insisting on you handling this locket with care be too much to ask?”

“What isn't, from your part?”

Hannibal swallowed his thoughts and neatly adjusted his horrible prison outfit. Obviously Graham would not be attracted to him right now –accusations aside. He was quite fit and not precisely plain, but a young man such as Graham would never have taken interest in him without the appeal of perfectly tailored suits and a brilliant social status. Or maybe it was the European kink some USA residents seemed to have. Perhaps the fact that Graham had no friends and had used Hannibal as his comfort blanket for almost a year.

Hannibal slightly rubbed his own fingertips against one another. He then noticed the gesture, and ceased at once. He really couldn't afford sentiments, and Willia... Agent Graham had most probably noticed the gesture. Hannibal would have to monitor himself more closely. He would also have to avoid showing nervousness another way, now that Graham had associated it with the gesture. That would set the man off tracks, confuse his reading of body language, just like a false indicator of bluffing for a poker player's game.

“Can I enquire about the procedure of a confession?” Hannibal asked as courteously as he could master.

“Drop the manners Hannibal” Graham snapped. “You're not fooling anyone anymore.”

Hannibal paused, then answered softly:

“I have nothing but manners left.”

“And playing the victim. Why are you playing the victim? Is it to torture me? Make me doubt your being guilty? Mess with my mind?”

The other man breathed slowly, quiet and collected. “I am not the Ripper” he stated. “Or at least, I believe I am not. Is it that inconceivable that I would like to prove my innocence?”

“We have proof, Hannibal.”

“And I have no recollection of murdering anyone.”

Graham gritted his teeth together. “Look at me in the eyes and tell me you haven't killed anyone.”

Hannibal's eyes dropped down for a second. “I have never murdered anybody” he answered, eyes back up.

“What's with the change in vocabulary?” Will pondered. “I said 'look at me in the eyes and tell me you haven't _killed_ anyone”.

Hannibal seemed to grown mute.

“See how I could have a problem trusting you?” Graham said bitterly, suddenly washed over by a wave of heavy sadness. So Hannibal _was_ a killer after all. It was still hard to believe.

“Maybe you are right” Hannibal whispered, looking suddenly very tired. “Maybe I deserve to be here.”

“I'm pretty sure the family of your victims would agree” Graham answered heartlessly.

Hannibal glanced at the discarded letter on his desk. “I know they do.”

Graham rubbed his head with both hands. “So, confession” he said. “First we have to interrogate you, and then you get to sign a paper. Easy peasy.”

Hannibal nodded, once, neatly. It was important to do it the exact right way.

“Would you do me a favour?” he asked.

“I think not.”

“I will ask, and you will do as you please afterwards.”

“Why would I even _consider_ doing anything for you?” Will snarled.

Hannibal slowly took a breath in. “Alana's flowers need watering. She is very fond of them; as much as you are of your dogs, I would say. She usually uses her own brand of fertiliser too. A family recipe I believe. While she is at the hospital, someone ought to take care of them.”

Graham winced. “You make me sick” he said, getting up brutally and storming out through the corridor.

 

On his way out, he picked up the locket.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter on wednesday! (Don’t expect it to get better that soon.)


	4. Beverly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will investigates the locket and Hannibal’s past.

_ _

_When Hannibal had learned that Will liked him, he had internally sighed in disappointment. He enjoyed the young man's company himself, and wasn't inclined_   _to losing him to some sexually misguided appetite. Though when he had come to consider it more closely, committing himself to Will made sense._

_He did like the man after all. They shared a mindset, had a sort of intimate, psychological connection. Furthermore, Hannibal enjoyed spending time with Will._

_Maybe it wasn't him. Maybe it was others –maybe he had never wished for any kind of close, romantic relationship because he had not found anyone who raised his interest– not the way Will did._

_So when he'd gone to William's house to give a positive answer about his offer of engaging together in a romantic way, he should have known. Known that as he felt indifference where others felt attraction, he would experience helpless attachment instead of what they called love._

_William loved him. He was nice, cared for him, listened to his words and sometimes even tried to please him specifically through a particular gesture._

_Whereas Hannibal was... lost. He felt his heartbeat rise when Will approached –sometimes even at the simple thought of him. He caught himself more than once sketching his face, his body, while taking a phone call or even talking with a patient. He dreamt about his scent. His chest ached when he'd been away from the man for too long. Or for a minute._  

_Most of the time, when Will wasn't with him, he felt ridiculous. It was if anyone could suddenly turn, look at him and know, just **know** what he was feeling. Know those sentiments went far beyond what Will felt for him. Know how out of control he was._

_When Will was with him, he didn't care. He was happy. He pushed away this part of his mind who kept reminding him that, logically, the younger man would eventually grow out of this infatuation to find someone his own age, who might be able to help him build a family. He silenced_ _the thoughts that murmured he would end up wounded, and badly, because when you love someone desperately and they don't love you back that much, it always hurt to notice the gap in-between affections._

_He closed metaphorical eyes and decided to believe all was well as long as Will was here._

 

*

 

“Anything?” Graham asked when Beverly came back from her lab.

“Nothing actually” she answered. “That's a very average locket, aside from the fact that it probably costs more than my car. This is a picture of Mrs and Mr Lecter, and this is Misha, the Ripper's younger sister. I wonder if he was a family man.”

“He never mentioned her.”

“I'd say no then. She died in a car crash along with her parents. Apparently Mr Chesapeake was in the vehicle too, but got out of it quite swimmingly. Aside from the fact that he went mute from some time afterwards; but psychological effects were to be expected.”

“He went mute?”

“That happens sometimes. Also, he was quite young; he probably had nothing interesting to say anyway. What is it?”

“Nothing, it's just... I would not have imagined that somebody like the Ripper would have that kind of reaction.”

“Who knows. Maybe he was faking.”

“Maybe.”

Beverly looked at him with concern.

“Don't look at me with concern Bev.”

“I can't help it. I know you and him had grown quite close. I must be hard.”

Will bit his lip. “It is. But I manage.”

She patted him gently on the shoulder.

“Just don't forget that man in jail is a bloody serial killer and you should be fine.”

“He keeps insisting he's innocent.”

“Why wouldn't he? If he's not deemed insane, he'll probably end up fried. Nobody would like that.”

“Especially not the Ripper. He's everything but suicidal.”

“Exactly. So don't be surprised, and don't be fooled. That man is probably trying to use your relationship against you.”

Will sighed.

“I need a favour, Bev.”

“Whatever you want hon'. Not my iPod.”

He smiled. “I need you to keep me on track. If you see that I'm acting weird, or pursuing some mad illusion that Hannibal's innocent...”

“You're already doing that.”

“There's a difference” Will pointed out. “We cannot be sure he committed those murders –his timetable doesn't concur. So while some agent tries to understand how that works, I'm looking for another Ripper. Because it's still a possibility.”

“A very thin one.”

“But still real. We can agree on that.”

Beverly pondered. “Yeah, alright. There is still a tiny _tiny_ chance that Lecter isn't a bloody murderer.”

“I'll be looking into that.”

She scrutinised his face with curiosity. “I don't understand” she said. “He was only your shrink for what... twelve, fourteen months? Why are you so focused on proving his innocence? Are you that vexed that he could have escaped your radar?”

Will ventured a tongue out his lips and gently bit on it, pensively. “We dated. Don't tell Jack.”

Beverly opened wide eyes. “You... what? Will!”

“I know, I know, don't tell Jack, please Beverly; I really need to be on that case.”

“I can't, I have to, you can't work on your boyfriend's case!”

“Beverly, please. You'll keep me on track. And you know I'm good. You know I'm very good. Whoever the Ripper is, Hannibal or other, I'll find him. I will, I swear, Bev'. Please, _please_ don't tell Jack.”

Beverly shook her head, mouth wide open in disbelief. But then, she closed it. “Alright. Fine, Graham, I will cover for your sorry ass. But don't give me a reason to regret my decision!”

Will nodded, sighing in relief. “I need you as my compass” he stated. “If I slip, you have to be here to put me back on track.”

“You know you shouldn't be on that case. We both know that.”

“I have to. I have to, Beverly! If it's him, I have to be sure. A hundred per cent sure. I can't let anything slide, I wouldn't forgive myself. He will be convicted with crushing evidence, or let out white as day. There's no middle.”

Beverly sighed, then cocked her head. “So, what was it like, dating the Chesapeake Ripper?”

Graham cringed, but knew she was just teasing. “Don't call him that. Yet. And it was nice. He's... he acted surprisingly shy, if you must know.”

“Shy?” Beverly sniffed. “The infamous three-piece-suit dandy who walks into a room like he owns the place?”

“He was nice. As in, old fashioned dating nice. We went to places together; went fishing –he doesn't like that. He cooked a lot, which I'm now not sure was sure a good thing.”

“Much human parts?”

“I sure hope not.”

They chuckled lightly.

“And he was tender” he remembered fondly. “I don't see how a man that caring could be a vicious murderer. I don't _feel_ it.”

“And I'm sure he was very gentle when he took your virginity” Beverly commented; “doesn't mean he wouldn't suddenly turn crazy mad and run amok in Baltimore's streets. It happens. A lot. You're FBI, you should now that.”

“I know” Will sighed. “But if it's the case, then it's probably some sort of split personality disorder. I don't think I could have missed it otherwise. I mean, we'd grown pretty close.”

“Oh my god, I don't want details about your sex life. Does he keep his socks on?”

Will rolled his eyes. “One, I won't give you details because there has been exactly no sex between us, and two, who the hell keeps their socks on?”

“Lecter seemed the type. So, no sex hey? Is he impotent? Lots of guys lose it because of their wee-wee, if you know what I mean.”

“He's perfectly functional, thank you very much” Will replied. “But as I told you, he's shy.”

“Or heterosexual. He could totally be heterosexual and platonically getting in your pants to mess with you.”

“He's probably more or less bi like everybody else” Graham sighed. “Beverly, why are you trying to make fun of this?”

“I'm trying to do my job” Beverly reminded. “If there's a motive, we better find it. And by that I mean you.”

Will bit his lower lip. “Right, there's something.”

“Something gory?”

He glared. “He said he'd never really dated before. That he hadn't really been interested. Do you think that was a lie?”

Beverly pouted. “Dunno. Maybe. Maybe he disposed of everyone else he dated to cover his tracks. You know what? Run interviews and a research about his past relationships. It's not stalking if it's legally authorized! If he lied, then we might have a lead.”

“I don't know” Will said. “Asexuality or the like is a weird motive for legally stalking an ex boyfriend.”

“I'm telling you to. Maybe it's nothing, but it's still unusual, and unusual can lead to illegal.”

“Not always.”

“Not always, but we need evidence and we're lacking some. That's good enough. Would you rather it be Zeller or Price who do the research?”

“I'm on it” Graham answered. “Thanks for the help, Bev'.”

“No worries. Don't blow it up, right? Find us that Ripper. Or you know, keep him jailed.”

Will nodded, attempting a smile.

 

*

 

_Looking into the files, calling to get testimonies... a lot of “unusual” things came up about Hannibal. He'd always been quite a recluse, never had many friends. Growing up, he became more attractive –money and status do that. From a silent child, he blossomed into a charming man, socially at ease, clever, witty. Impeccable._

_Lonely._

_Nobody wanted to claim themselves his friend now that he was jailed. “I've always known there was something about him...” Will couldn't help but remind them Hannibal was still a suspect, not a convicted criminal yet._

_A couple of his oldest acquaintances stood for him though, affirming he was too much of a gentleman to do anything rash, certainly not cruel. He found one who had been in love with him, who still was, a little.“You know how he is” she told him. “Always trying to be perfect as if his life depended on it.”_

_He recalled the first actual date Hannibal had initiated, inviting him out to a walk with the dogs around a lake, where he had parked his own car and prepared both lures and Will's favourite fishing rod. Will reminded himself vividly of his tight-lipped smile when a light cold wind had started blowing, when he had noticed a stain of mud on his pants, each time a dog approached him too enthusiastically._

_This had been when Will had noticed a pinch of pain tightening his heart for the first time. When Hannibal had frowned his nose at the scent of wet dog, and said nothing. He looked so out of place, in his impeccable gentleman's expensive sportswear and polished shoes._

_Will had wished to pull him tight against his chest and cradle him, a certain sense of urgency ordering him to get up and take the man in his arms right there and then, protect him from everything as if he were fragile._

_Protect him._

_Hannibal needed everything but._

_But Will still had wished to. He had wanted that so much, with every fibre_ _of his self._

_Radiate care like a sun emits light, to dizzy him with warmth until he fell asleep in satiated affection. So he could watch over him like a loyal guardian._

_Had Hannibal loved him?_

_Will didn't want to think about it._

_Either answer would be far too painful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter on Friday!
> 
> On a side note, my beta reader Toft gives me hilarious advice, and I can’t resist sharing one of the latest with you: 
> 
> "There's a weird distinction between 'prone to' and 'inclined to'. ‘Inclined' has more agency – 'prone to' is habit of body, 'inclined to' is habit of mind. Like 'Will was prone to fart in the shower' and 'Hannibal was inclined to ignore him’."


	5. Alana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal thinks Alana used human organs as fertilizer. Will finds absolutely no evidence.

 

_Hannibal's lips tightened when he saw the mess Will had made as he was entering his house._

_Obviously, he couldn't resent him for wearing muddy shoes –it was raining pretty hard outside._

_But the man could have removed said shoes before going to the bathroom_ _, dirtying part of the entry hall, the living-room, the stairs, the–_

_Hannibal inhaled deeply and went for his cleaning gloves and products. He was tidying the hall when he heard flushing, then heavy steps on his recently varnished stairs. Will arrived in his back._

“ _Oh” he whispered, noticing the mess he'd made. “I didn't realise...” He got his shoes off and put them next to Hannibal's clean ones, not too close though. “Here, let me help.”_

_But he couldn't even handle a broom right. Hannibal bit his words down when he noticed patches of dry floor Will's mop had missed. “You should let me do it. Go to the kitchen and have a drink” he offered._

_Will straightened up and sighed. “What's wrong?”_

“ _Nothing is, William.”_

“ _No, something's wrong, and you're telling me.”_

_Hannibal turned to him calmly. “I assure you, everything is fine.”_

_Will rolled his eyes and approached him, slid his fingers into Hannibal's hair and kissed him, a tad angrily. Though soon, his irritation melted into a sigh._

“ _Alright, tell me. What am I doing wrong?”_

_Hannibal hesitated._

“ _You don't have to be super polite with me: I'm not a guest, I almost live here.”_

_The older man caved, and showed Will the dry patches he had missed. “It's... You should mop in a criss-crossed manner” he said. “So everything gets really cleaned.”_

“ _Alright” Will replied. “Here, I'll try it.”_

_He made a visible effort at getting it right and, even though his strokes weren't that parallel to the walls, they did cover the whole surface of dirty floor. “Better?”_

_Hannibal swallowed. “Yes.”_

_While they finished cleaning up; Hannibal did his best not to check on Will's work. When they put away the cleaning devices, Will turned towards the other casually. “You know, there are times when making a mess can be fun.”_

_Hannibal rose an eyebrow, clearly foreign to the concept, and William smiled._

 

“ _See?” Will said, blowing on a flying bubble for it to land on Hannibal. The small orb burst and he laughed. Hannibal was considering the flood next to the bathtub, that Will had splashed wet._

_The carpets had been removed, and safely put away. The bathroom had just been scrubbed clean by the young man, so no dusty surprise would suddenly appear floating like a little pirate boat on Hannibal's impeccable sea of neatness._

_The man allowed himself a smile._

“ _Messy can be fun” Will said, wiggling to crawl on him. He laced his hands around Hannibal's neck and kissed him. “What do you say?”_

_The other grinned. “I think I would not mind bathing more often with you.”_

“ _I sure hope so, your bathtub could host a horse! I barely fit a grown dog in mine.”_

_Will took a bit more of product to put in the water. “Oh, look at that, bubbles.” Hannibal slid his fingers in the iridescent foam._

“ _You know” Will said, “I could totally touch you all over now.”_

_He enjoyed saying things like that out of the blue, because sometimes it made Hannibal blush._

_Not this time. “Should I remind you I find myself in the exact same position, dear William?”_

_Will giggled (then found that strange) (then decided not to care) and nibbled on the other's neck._

_Hannibal embraced him gently. “I apologise if my need for cleanness sometimes burdens you.”_

_Will nuzzled his jaw. “And I'm sorry my messiness sometimes gets on your nerves. But hey! Looks like we manage.” He smiled and slid a mischievous hand below the foamy water, following the curves of Hannibal's body._

_This time, the other's eyes widened and he flushed. “Naughty, William.”_

“ _Maybe.” He kissed him and gently stroke what his hand had found. “You know”, he whispered in the other's ear; “dirty can be fun, too.”_

 

*

 

Will was living a nightmare.

And not of the good kind, involving waking up sweaty and shaken to the bone.

He smiled weakly to Alana, nodding and trying to look like he was actually listening to her talk about flowers.

Until he noticed she wasn't speaking anymore.

She was looking at him.

Busted.

“Sorry Alana, I'm...”

“Worried, I understand. Hannibal was your friend as well as your therapist. How are you handling?”

Graham tried coming up with a lie.

“Not well” he stated. “Horribly, actually. Which is why hearing about the different kinds of flowers right now is...”

“...not ideal.”

“No, actually, it's about as much drama as I can take. And you have a surprisingly green thumb!” he added, gesturing at her flowering glasshouse. “What's your secret?”

She smiled. “Fertilizer! My grandma had a special recipe for it.”

“Let me guess. There's a secret ingredient?”

“Obviously. Nothing too special though, so I wouldn't add it to the FBI watch list” she smiled.

He tried his best to mimic the expression convincingly.

“So, what about the pots? I'm not a specialist in growing vegetation, but isn't there supposed to be more earth on the ground and less pots?”

“I like rare flowers” Alana smiled. “Orchids, especially. They all need extra attention, so I care for them individually.”

Graham looked at a particularly beautiful white blossom. “Do you use your grandma's recipe for each of them or have to make a new batch?”

Alana rose an eyebrow at that.

“Some of my dogs have a specific diet.”

“Flowers are not dogs, Will” Alana chuckled. “But I _do_ adapt the soil for each type of plant I grow.”

“Maybe flowers and dogs have some in common after all.”

Graham pondered. “Does that mean you have a closet full of fertilizer boxes neatly labelled with your flowers name on it?”

“I have bags of earth” Alana stated, amused. “Do you want to try it?”

“Try what?”

“Plant a flower. It's really soothing”

“Me? Thanks, I have boat motors for that. Hey, is that your doorbell?”

“You think?” Alana said. “I didn't hear anything.”

Graham nodded. “Maybe I misheard.”

“Oh, well, I'll go check anyway. Do you want something? A glass of water?”

“Water would be great, thanks.”

Alana smiled at him gently while getting out of the greenhouse, which made Graham feel quite a bit guilty for what he did right after.

Dig into some of her flowers pots, collect samples of dirt and fertiliser, look through her shelves and search for hidden spaces. Anything peculiar.

He felt dirty, and it wasn't due to the earth. Alana had always been good to him. She seemed to genuinely care about him and his well-being. She'd always been supporting. She'd always been... there.

Though now he was searching her house for evidence of Hannibal's innocence, which incidentally would prove her guilty of manipulation and assassinations.

Part of him hated himself for it.

Another, bigger part wished to find something.

He hated that part too.

 

*

 

_Taking in a shower in prison. That, Hannibal would call Hell._

_For one, the guards didn't wander off, and some of them even watched, so he had no intimacy._

_Obviously, his cuffs stayed on: even handing the soap (cheap, acid, awfully bad for the skin and hair) was tricky._

_The water was never really cold, but was not what one would call warm either; it often gave him the chills._

_Worse of all: for all its smell of detergent, the place wasn't clean. Hannibal cringed each time his bare feet took a step on that floor._

_He'd almost asked for a mop once._

“ _Time's up” a guard said, handing him a towel._

_Hannibal hadn't fully rinsed yet, so he hurried. The guards were usually fine with a little lateness, though a pair of them didn't mind sending him back to his cell half cleaned or still soapy. This one was alright; he even helped him secure the towel around him in spite of the two pairs of cuffs, on his wrists and ankles, which were linked together by a chain in the middle. He would help him dress up too, as Hannibal was only allowed one limb free_ _at all times when he was out of his cell._

_Hannibal then took his time combing. He didn't have much more to do anyway, and a neat parting of his hair usually reassured him._

_His comb was cheap and fragile, probably so he wouldn't be able to use it for anything else; it already missed a tooth._

_He had kept the tooth and patiently carved a hole in it with a small piece of concrete fallen from his wall. After carefully sharpening it against the wall, he could use it as a fragile needle to sew back the falling buttons of his uniform._

_It wasn't much, but it kept him sane._

_When the needle broke, he used its cleaned remains as a toothpick, which eventually split._

 

_Some times after that, Graham came to visit. Well, to ask if he was ready to confess; same thing._

_He didn't talk though, not at first. He approached the bars of Hannibal's cell and seized two of them, leaning his forehead against a third. Dark rings under his eyes._

“ _You've lost weight” he told Hannibal._

“ _The food here is dreadful.”_

_Will sighed tiredly. “We've finished with your house; the forensics took all their things out. We found the remains of three more Ripper victims in it.”_

_Hannibal thought of FBI teams in his house. Dirtying the floor, moving furniture. Opening books and private letters._

“ _I cleaned” Will said._

_Hannibal rose his head to look at him._

“ _I cleaned after they went. Criss-cross. Everything is in order.”_

_The older man stayed still and expressionless on the bed. Then he stood up and slowly went to Will._

“ _Can't we...” Will said. “Can't we...” He sighed._

Can't we pretend this is not happening. Just for the next few minutes. Forget about it.

_Hannibal rose his hand, grasped a bar right below Will's hand, their skin barely touching._

_Will wasn't looking at him. He was tired, and he looked sad._

“ _If you believed me, it would be easier” Hannibal stated, softly._

I want to. I _want_ to.

“ _I owe the truth to the victims, and to their families. I can't... put my feelings before that. I can't believe you when the evidence says not to.”_

_Hannibal slowly bent his neck so his own forehead would rest next to Will's._

_The young man seemed so small. Broken._

“ _You will be fine, in time” Hannibal told him. “You will forget about this. Find a way to build a better life. Away from the FBI, I hope.”_

“ _Don't.”_

_Will's eyes wrinkled as he held them shut. Not tight enough; a tear escaped and slid on his cheek._

“ _Don't.”_

_He opened his mouth to breath, unable to do so normally. His wet, blue eyes glanced away._

“ _If I hadn't been... whatever the fuck I am, the copycat wouldn't have taken interest in me. The Ripper wouldn't have...”_

_He swallowed a sob. “Is that why you approached me? Because I'm some sort of diagnosable freak?”_

_Hannibal lowered his head, hoping the gesture wouldn't mess with his neatly combed hair against the bar. “Once, we went to a coffee shop” he said. “The waiter gave me a spoon with a spot on it. I hadn't even had time to notice, you had already asked him to exchange it for a clean one.”_

_He brought his other hand to the bars, next to Will's fingers. “You're not a freak” he said. “You're an empath surrounded by freaks_ _.”_

_Will tore away from the bars._

“ _No wonder” he said. “No wonder.”_

_He wiped away his tears. “Jack wants to know if you're ready to confess.”_

“ _Will you be assisting to the confession?”_

“ _It's not up to me.”_

“ _My lawyer told me about it. I am supposed to prove I committed the crimes I am accused of before signing the confession, am I correct?”_

“ _Yes.”_

_Hannibal straightened up, away from the bars, and checked on his hair and outfit. “As long as you witness it, I agree to it.”_

_Will sighed, something he had not be willing to do but that he did, heavily, as if the breath was sucked away from him._

“ _Thank you for cleaning my house” Hannibal said._

“ _Maybe I'm not a freak” Will replied._

“ _But I'm certainly a fool.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter next wednesday.


	6. Confessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal confesses being the Ripper. Or, at least, pretends to.

 

“Could we start with the people I killed?” Hannibal asked casually. “I would rather commence with the ones I do remember.”

He glanced at the tainted glass of the interrogation cell. From the other side of the glass, Jack scoffed. “Still playing mice and cats. I can't wait to see him on trial.”

“He has alibis” Will reminded him. “Good ones, for most of the murders. You need to be patient.”

Jack looked at him attentively. “You are hesitating.”

“He’s agreed to confess his crimes, which could lead directly to him getting the death penalty instead of life incarceration. I don't think that the Ripper would have any kind of destructive behaviour. I think he’d play the insanity card and hope to escape jail in time.”

“Killing people is pretty destructive.”

“And he _has_ alibis. I mean, we haven't checked it all yet, but he couldn't possibly have committed all the murders.”

“You think it's not him. Or rather, you want to think it isn't.”

“I don't know what to think Jack. He's trying to send me after Alana. He insists that he's innocent, and now he's confessing kills. Something isn't right.”

“Yeah, and I know what. His head.”

Will shuddered and looked back inside the interrogation room.

“We where in the car” Hannibal was saying. “It was late and dark, night had already fallen. Mother had told me to stay quiet, but I kept tickling Misha to make her laugh. Mother was really tired. We were coming back from a party, I think. We had nice clothes on.”

“This is not what we are interested in” the officer pointed out.

“I am almost done” Hannibal answered. “Please, indulge me.”

The other sighed. “Go on.”

“He's too polite to be real” Jack scoffed from his hiding spot.

Will wished him to shut up because he wanted to hear the rest of the story.

“Father turned his back to the road to shush us down, but he couldn't help a laugh. So my mother turned her head towards us too. Then there was a stag.”

Hannibal paused. “When I woke up, the car was burning. I managed to get out, I am not sure how. Then I realised I had made a mess.”

He straightened his prison outfit to make it hang more neatly.

“These are the murders I remember” he concluded. “Could you please hand me that confession paper that I have to sign?”

“We are not done with the interrogation” the officer answered.

“It is fine” Hannibal said. “And I am sure you had a long day already. I was told I just had to sign a paper.”

“That is not how it works” the officer said.

“What is he doing?” Jack growled. “Taunting us?”

“We have to go together through a series of questions to confirm your involvement in the murders” the officer explained.

“I think my involvement was very much confirmed. There is no proof of my innocence, so I must be guilty. I just hope the jury will be clement and grant me death rather than life imprisonment.”

“He's being ridiculous” Will said. “I'm going in.”

Jack nodded. “Feel free to sent officer Ashley back to me.”

Graham entered the interrogation room and gave Ashley her leave for now.

“I'm not sure you get that whole confessing thing” Graham said while sitting in front of Hannibal. “We ask you some questions to define your degree of involvement in a murder, and you answer. Real simple.”

Hannibal looked tired, but a slight smile on his lips showed his satisfaction at luring Will out. It seemed like he had lost weight again, and his eyes glimmered feverishly in the hole of darkened orbits.

“Could we please cut to the chase?” he asked. “Jack thinks I'm guilty. Alana thinks I'm guilty. My family, my patients; probably the whole country does. Sometimes, I even doubt my lawyers' position on the matter. If I am liberated, I will have to leave the country, probably forge a new identity. My life here is done for. I just don't want to go to prison. I'd rather get the death penalty. Let me sign that confession, Will.”

“Where were you on the former 5th of November?” Graham asked, having none of his act.

Hannibal blinked. “Probably killing someone, I suppose. I told you, I do not remember killing anyone else than those people I just talked about.”

Graham took a long breath in. “Okay. We'll do it simply. At what time of the day was Terry Noel murdered?”

Hannibal pondered. “Eight o'clock in the afternoon.”

Graham's paper indicated 6 a.m.

“Could you confirm he died of blood loss?”

“No, I bet he was strangled.”

Decapitated, actually. But Hannibal didn't even spare him a glance, as if he wasn't trying to play.

He sat very straight and proper, with his wrists on the table and a perfect hairline. He spoke clearly and concisely. He looked straight at Will's eyes. His voice, although monotonous and tired, didn't falter.

“Can I ask something?” Hannibal said.  


“Fire away.”

“For how many murders will I be convicted?”

“I can't tell you the statement of a future jury.”

Hannibal tilted his head. “You don't have enough evidence” he stated. “I most probably wasn't around at the time and place of the murders, so you _need_ a confession to convict me.”

“With the articles Freddie Lounds is posting on you right now, I think you'll need a little more than evidence shortage to get out of this one.”

Hannibal nodded distractedly. “I have another question.”

“I'm the one doing the interrogation here.”

“If you can all see that I possibly cannot have committed those murders, why are you so intent on convicting me for them?”

“Lack of evidence isn't lack of guilt” Graham answered, avoiding the other's eyes. “Let's resume the interrogation.”

Hannibal got up. “I will go to trial, and walk out free, as I am innocent of those crimes after all. Then I will run away from the ruins that are my life and hope the Chesapeake Ripper doesn't catch up with me; he's not been very kind to previous usurpers. What I am hoping for is that you will be on my side by then.”

“You're good” Graham blurted out nervously, standing up to join him by the door. “Keeping up the act, managing to make me doubt myself all the time. But we have evidence enough. You _will_ be convicted, Hannibal. Most probably to a life in Chilton's care. Although your penalty will be reduced if you confess.”

Hannibal scrutinised his face. “If Alana isn't the Ripper, then it's someone who knows how the FBI works very well.”

“Like, say, _you_?”

“It could be anyone you have professional bonds with.”

“Again, _you_ come up to mind.”

Hannibal looked thoughtful. “It could be you” he mused. “It could be Jack. It could be anybody. Though I am fairly sure they schemed this for your benefit.”

“I am _not_ benefiting from this, believe me.”

“I would, if you return the courtesy.”

Graham swallowed. “There were human parts at your house” he said. “You fit the profile I made so very closely. It's not that _I want_ to believe you're the Ripper; it's just that the evidence –I shouldn't be justifying myself to you.”

“No, but it feels good to know you cared.”

“That's in the past” Graham retorted, glancing briefly at the tainted window behind which Jack was listening to their conversation. “Now we should be talking about those murders you committed.”

“Did you? Truly care for me?”

“Believe me when I say now's _not_ the moment, Hannibal” Will snapped, hoping Jack wouldn’t read too much into that. Being fired from the case what _not_ what he needed right now.

The other looked at him sadly, unaware or uncaring that they weren’t truly alone. “I'm older than you, and our tastes in life are very different. I always wondered what you saw in me.”

“Apparently, it's what I _didn't_ see that was important” Will growled, feeling a odd tingling pin needles in his spine at the idea that Jack was probably understanding the true extent of his and Hannibal’s relationship right now. He half expected the man to barge in yelling at this point.

“Talk to Bedelia.”

“Who?”

“Doctor Du Maurier, my therapist. I will give her full agreement to break doctor-patient confidentiality. She knows every aspect of my life. If you need a reliable witness, she shall be it.”

“We talked to her already. She thinks you are not guilty.”

“I can do nothing for you if you take the ethical path. I cannot answer correctly to your questions about those murders because I did not commit them. If you want a full confession from me, you will have to let me sign that paper without further ado. If you want the Ripper, you will have to catch him.”

“You _are_ the Ripper!” Graham exclaimed tiredly.

“It could be Alana. I did not attack her, so if she did not genuinely mistake her assailant for me, she is lying. Maybe she planted that evidence in my fridge. Why would you believe her rather than I?”

“ _There is no evidence at her house!_ ” Graham shouted. “Nothing suspicious, _at all_. I checked the place. I took samples. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Hannibal seemed relieved. “You investigated Alana” he murmured.

“What, you thought I just started distrusting you for fun?”

The older man nodded, but for himself rather than to answer that rhetorical question.

Will bit his lip, remembering Jack would have heard all of that. “I did this on my own” he said, as much for Hannibal’s than for Jack’s benefit. 

“Nobody truly suspects Alana but you, although we have looked into her attack. But she had a concussion. How are we supposed to believe she attacked you, made it look like _you_ actually assaulted _her_ , then gave herself a concussion? And why on Earth would she do that? Aside from giving me a harder time as the Ripper, that is.”

He sighed. “She could have logistically committed some of the murders. Three of them. Only she doesn’t have the medical background that goes with surgically cutting people up, and wouldn’t have been able to kill one of the victims –she’s too tall to have inflicted the wounds as they were. At this rate, anyone living in Baltimore could be the Ripper.”

“I did not assault her” Hannibal reminded him. “Maybe Agent Crawford cares more about catching a Ripper than about Justice, but I’m glad to learn that at least one of his agents is properly investigating.”

Hannibal had probably guessed Jack was personally listening to them as clearly this comment was to his benefit. He tilted his head. 

“As you _did_ investigate, tell me; can I truly have committed those murders?” he asked Will. “I remember none of it.”

“We will check on your psyche later” Graham replied, already distracted by the scolding he knew Jack would give him after that. “Now what we need is hard fact checking.”

Hannibal slowly went back to sit at the table, as if he had been waiting for this moment precisely.

“Let us try.”

A few hours later, they had determined Hannibal could have logistically committed only two of the murders of the list. The man was looking at Will optimistically, probably thinking the younger man would believe him now.

“I think I will go back to my original position of 'I don't think it's me'” he stated. “The worst that you can convict me for is having a magical refrigerator that can turn food into human parts, and attacking Alana –which I did not. I am not even trying to defend myself; the evidence does it for me.”

“Someone could have planted it in your fridge” Graham granted. “But Alana isn't lying.”

“Maybe she was drugged. Maybe she _is_ lying –though I must confess, I don't see her as the murdering type.”

Will hesitated.

“She said she didn't feel well before the attack” he recalled.

Hannibal seemed relieved. He paused, then gently put a hand over Will's. “Can you start believing me then?” he asked.

Graham got up, taking his hand away, avoiding the other's eyes.

“I trust only evidence.”

 

Will paused to lean on the wall as soon as he was out of the interrogation room.

He couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel the Ripper in someone who would have grown feeling that guilty about the death of his family.

But he couldn't tell if that was what Hannibal wanted him to think, or simply the truth.  



	7. Guilty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal goes to trial.

  


_When he was in his cell, Hannibal used to lie_ _down on his back and close his eyes. There, behind the reddish curtain, he could imagine better days._

 _He could imagine Italy, its gorgeous plains of green and blue, and the golden light the sun was laying_ _on it like a caring veil._

_He would escape to the luxuriant waters of the Mexican coast, swim with rainbow coloured fishes in the turquoise sea._

_He wandered in the halls of greats libraries, ran his fingers on old volumes and re-read some in the vapours of dust._

_He daydreamed_ _, and it was beautiful._

 

*

 

Guilty. Freddie Lounds really had done her homework after all; he'd been doomed the very moment his trial started. The jury hated him.

Oh, his lawyer was good, but Freddie had been better. She'd played with emotions, fear, disgust, hatred; painted him as monster.

No lack of evidence could have saved him from blind hatred –two possible murders were far enough to condemn him.

Also, apparently, being a tad old fashioned Count from eastern Europe reminded people of Dracula.

The only reassuring thing was Graham's presence. Alana was there too, but she tended to avoid his eyes, which wasn't exactly a surprise. Jack looked weirdly unsatisfied with himself, probably because he knew he had not done as thorough a job as he should have.

Graham didn't look happy, at least. He seemed a little grim, but that was explainable. Hannibal wasn't sure he could read his expression; it looked like thoughtfulness.

He'd almost gotten away though, which meant he had a slight chance of getting out of jail through a re-trial, when Lounds would be feeding on another corpses and the jury less impressionable. Maybe he should have bribed some of them. After all, it eventually went down to one vote.

He would get out, eventually. Spend a few months... or years in jail, then go back to a deserted practice and no acquaintances.

Well. He could do that in Florence.

He stole a last glance at William, trying to memorize the pattern of his soft dark curls, the blueness of his avoiding eyes, the shagginess of his beard. If he could get his hands on pens and paper in jail, he might draw his portrait. Then rip it apart, to avoid falling into nostalgia.

He also longingly tried his best to take a good look at the sun, the sky, everything he would be denied from now on.

Which wasn't easy, as a crowd had assembled outside the tribunal and was yelling insults at him. Well, most of them were. Some actually seemed greedy, or lustful. Which wasn't much better, but at least they didn't throw things at him. Hannibal wished for a moment Will would be one of them. If he concentrated enough, he could picture his face among the others. Though even imaginary William seemed mad at him.

He got in the police car that would lead him into the hands of the dull Doctor Chilton, and bid fresh air goodbye.

 

*

 

_In his cell, Hannibal would stand up as soon as the lights went off. As soon as his eyes started pulling down to close and force him to sleep. He would stay awake, going as far as biting his fingers and pinching himself as long as he could manage to avoid slumber._

_He did so in the most discreet manner, because he did not want to be wrapped again in that straitjacket they had put him in when he had bit himself hard enough to draw blood._

_He did so because as soon as he fell asleep, he would plunge in the most horrendous dreams._

_He would be chatting charmingly with brilliant minds in beautiful halls, listening to wonderful divas, watching ballet dancers gracefully slide on the polished floors._

_He would see his Aunt smiling to him, welcoming him with open arms. He would witness the joy on his Uncle's face when he came to visit._

_He would be safe in bed, his arms curled around William's waist, his head against his chest, listening to the quiet pounding of the young man's heart._

_He would ear the tiny voice of his sister Mischa crying out for him, marvelling at the lovely kite she had been offered that same evening._

_And then, he would wake up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be taking a short break from all that angst with a fluffy three chapter fic next week ("Oh Wait, This Isn't A Dream!"). Then we’ll resume our program as usual, and hope it ends well for our tormented heroes.
> 
> By the way, there will be a Ripper at some point. You’re not supposed to guess who.


	8. Chilton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal’s in jail -Jack pays him a visit while Will is stuck with creepy Chilton.

“ _Hannibal, what are you doing?”_

_The older man lifted his head up, surprised. “Folding the napkins, Will. Why?”_

“ _Paper napkins. At my home. You don't have to be fancy all the time, you know.”_

_Hannibal swallowed. “I thought we could use a touch of... fanciness.” He smiled charmingly._

_Graham knew this smile. Graham **hated** this smile. It was Hannibal's “I won't be hurt by your words and will find an adequate comeback” smile. The “I'm so used to being pointed out as weird I don't mind if you do it either” expression. A lie._

_Graham wasn't fond of Hannibal always being a dandy either. Sometimes eating half-cooked pizzas and a beer would have been waaay quicker. The origami was harmless though, so he let it slide._

 

“ _Hannibal, what are you doing?”_

_Hannibal rose his eyes. “Going to the bathroom, dear Will.”_

“ _Our bathroom is the other way. Are you going to your library? You are, are you?”_

_The man cocked his head. “I cannot sleep anyway.”_

_Will sighed. “It's just some books, love. They're not going anywhere. You can clean that mess up tomorrow, you know that.”_

_Hannibal slightly nodded and went back to bed, cuddling against William._

_Graham gently stroked his hair. “You don't always have to be perfect, you know” he sighed. “Not around me.”_

“ _It's not about you, William.”_

“ _I know. And I didn't wait for you either to fold my socks neatly in my drawers. I'm just saying... whatever it is that makes you stay up all night because you haven't tidied up some books right away, it's... wrong. You shouldn't have to worry that much about it. Is it OCD, love?”_

“ _No” Hannibal answered after a pause. “I can control it. I just don't like to make a mess.”_

_Will nodded, nuzzled Hannibal's silky hair. “Let's try a thing. I'll go and tidy up the books. Alright?”_

_Hannibal hesitated._

“ _Do you want me to take pictures as proof?” Will mused._

_The other pouted._

_When Will came back, he handed his phone over to Hannibal, so the other could check on his doing. Hannibal took the cellphone, but didn't look at the pictures._

_He didn't go asleep right away. But he did, eventually._

 

*

 

Will couldn't bear to enter the State Hospital For The Criminally Insane again. He had told Jack he wouldn't.

Though there he was, pacing the waiting room under the wary look of Dr. Chilton.

“We never talked much, you and I” Chilton stated casually, probably trying to manoeuvre Will around into an interview.

“How's Dr Lecter?” Will asked, cutting him short.

Chilton's lips tightened. “Dehydrated” he answered.

Will rose an eyebrow.

“Your empathic gift is truly a wonder” Chilton said.

Graham frowned. “I'm not a freak to be poked around, Doctor. Tell me about Hannibal.”

“Ah yes. The _Ripper_ ” Chilton replied mockingly. Then he silenced.

“Well? What about him being dehydrated?” Will asked impatiently.

“Oh, he eats, at least a little” Chilton answered coyly. “Are you sure you are not interested in talking about your... talent, Mr Graham?”

“Do I have to wait for Jack to come back so you'd spit it out?” Will cringed in irritation.

Chilton shrugged. “He doesn't drink” he replied. “He says he doesn't feel thirsty, but he won't drink even when we insist on it. We had to intubate him.”

Will gritted his teeth, his fists together.

“Are you feeling guilty, Mr Graham?” Chilton asked slyly. “Knowing that he isn't the Ripper, that you were wrong?”

“We don't know about that” Will retorted –but his throat cringed and only let out half of his voice.

“You know, he wouldn't speak to me” Chilton told him, going to sit at his desk, looking quite satisfied of himself. “The first couple of months, at least. But then I mentioned your name at random, and caught his interest.”

Will rubbing his head. “We worked together.”

“Talking about you, it was like throwing a ball around a chained dog, you know. Once, I told him you would be visiting. He doesn't talk much, but he's not lazy. He cleans his room better than our staff does. He spent all day waiting for you with a perfect hairline and the look of an abandoned child on his face. He didn't say so –of course, he has no-one to talk to– but he was _very_ disappointed that you didn't show up.”

Will shook his head. “Why would you tell him that?”

“So next session he would agree to cooperate and tell me about himself. I fed him information about you –totally made up, don't be scared– and he would tell me about his crimes.”

“I bet that only worked once.”

Chilton pouted, vexed. “He is damaged” he said. “Ripper or not, he needs therapy, and quite badly. It's not only water, you know. He's become obsessed with symmetry. He makes his bed ten times in a row until it fits his taste. He arranges his desk parallel to the walls, and when he sits he doesn't move an inch to avoid messing up the arrangement of his furniture. We gave him some paper and a pen so he could draw. Sometimes, he rips one of the drawings apart and flushes it into the toilet. And he refuses to follow therapy.”

“Who did you appoint as a therapist?” Graham asked.

Chilton frowned.

“Well, obviously, he's not going to answer to _you_ ” Will pointed. “What about Bedelia du Maurier, his former therapist?”

“I'm more than qualified to–”

“Qualifications are nothing if the patient doesn't respond to the person.”

“Dr Lecter is _my_ patient.”

“Yet you've clearly left him unattended.”

The silence between them fall like a curtain of ice.

Then a knock on the door, and Jack appeared.

“He wants to see you” he told Will. “Obviously, he's said nothing.”

Will sighed. “I'll be going.” He looked at Chilton. “You should tell Agent Crawford what you told me, about the dehydration and obsessive tendencies.”

 

*

 

“ _Hannibal, what are you doing?”_

_Hannibal looked around guiltily, but obviously Graham wasn't there._

_He straightened his desk again, trying to have it fit the exact right way. Then the chair. And the desk again._

_He looked at the tiny cell, recalculating the angles. Maybe centre wasn't good enough. Maybe he should have placed the furniture at a third of the room. Maybe he should have used the golden number. Or Pi._

_He straightened up, tidied his outfit._

“ _Hannibal, what are you doing?”_

_Of course, Graham wouldn't come and tell him to stop. Nobody would stop him now. Not even himself. It didn't matter. And it felt so good to reach just the perfect fit._

_He knew there were cameras in the corridors that filmed his room all the time, but he didn't need the incentive to act decent. He fixed his furniture casually, as one distractedly gets dirt off a cloth._

“ _Hannibal, what are you doing?”_

_He'd asked if he could iron his clothes, but his demand had obviously been rejected._

_He'd been allowed a pencil, and a piece of paper a day. He drew. Chilton took most of the drawings, maybe for analysis, probably because he was, –what would have Graham said?– a dick._

_It didn't matter._

_Once a month, he allowed himself a portrait of Will. Then he put the drawing at his feet on the bed, back to the camera, and looked at it, pursuing silent discussions with it until guards arrived and he had to destroy it._

_This wasn't the most reasonable thing to do but hey, he was in an hospital for the criminally insane._

_He could take a clue._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is going to change a bit now -because we can’t jail Hannibal again, can we? Also, jail is boring. So we’ll wander elsewhere and do things like, I don’t know... meet the Ripper? ;)  
> See you on Wednesday! 
> 
> Also, check out my new Hannibal blog if you want > http://drlectersoffice.tumblr.com


	9. Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will meets Hannibal in prison.

Will came to visit exactly three days after Hannibal's definitive conviction.

When Hannibal learnt about it, he made an effort to look extra neat, which wasn't exactly easy with nothing but a single worn-out, formerly white prison wear at hand.

At least he had a comb.

He parted his hair perfectly and did his best to stand in the very middle of his cell, calculating angles and checking for symmetry. He would probably never see the man again, and even if it was going to be painful, he had to remember Will had been truly good for him.

 _Now, don't make a mess_ , he told himself.

He listened for the footsteps of the incoming FBI agent and realised something was off. They were heavier than Will's. Angry, too.

“Good evening, Jack” Hannibal greeted when he recognised the man, feeling his heart sink in disappointment. He discreetly, and vainly, checked the rest of the corridor.

“Will's not coming” Crawford stated. “Alright Doctor. What his name?”

“Will's?”

“Your accomplice. The copycat. _What's. His. Name_.”

“I suppose I killed again” Hannibal mused. “Feel free to add the victim to my bill; I am not going anywhere anyway.”

“I am not going to play games with you, Lecter. You and I both know Chilton can make your stay quite unpleasant if I ask him to. Give me a name.”

Hannibal was about to retort that Chilton was being unpleasant already when an idea occurred to him.

“I will tell. But only to William.”

“That is not an option.”

“Get William to talk to me, and I will give you a name, so you can save innocent lives. You like to save innocent lives, do you, Mr Crawford? As long as they are young and promising like Miss Lass; not old and discardable like me.”

He felt like he was pushing it, but his life was already a ruin. He might as well set his anger free.

“I see Mr Chilton let you get some books” Jack stated.

“Take them.”

He had entire libraries memorised, palaces, museums. He could wander in his souvenirs almost as if they were real. Furthermore, the books would eventually come back.

“On the other hand, I could help getting you more drawing materials” Crawford stated.

An improvement that would, again, come with time and good behaviour.

Hannibal smirked.

He was caged now, trapped, and yet somehow freed: he could afford the luxury of honesty.

“I do not wish to talk to you” he said, then turned back on his heels and went to lay down on his bed, choosing carefully the next piece of music his mind would be playing for him.

“You do not want to be playing games with me” Crawford threatened –Hannibal was already gone, lost in a beautiful Mozart that tended to make his heart ache. Jack sighed. “Alright. Five minutes.”

Hannibal was back on his feet in a blink. “To the second” he warned, already expecting to be robbed. “We will need a clock to measure that.”

A little extreme, but what isn't when you're an insane convict.

Of course, Graham had been waiting upstairs. Which meant he had predicted the confrontation, and wished to avoid it.

But Hannibal couldn't afford to feel saddened; William's presence would be the last nice thing he would experience in a long, long time. Maybe ever. He wanted to savour it.

So when Will arrived in front of his cell, messy and defiant, Hannibal stood, in silence.

Taking everything that was Will in. How ironic, to look for stability and reassurance in the person to whom he had once meant just that.

“Jack wants a name” Will said, just once.

Hannibal didn't answer. He didn't want to spoil the moment with negativity.

Graham sighed. “Look, if we can prove you have an accomplice who went down to do the actual killing, your conviction will be reduced.”

 _You know I'm innocent_ , Hannibal thought, softly as a whisper.

They had brought a clock and he could hear time get away gently, seconds running out like little kitchen knifes cutting through him slowly.

 _Five minutes_ , he had told himself.

When the five minutes were up, he closed his eyes, fixating the standing image of Will forever in his mind. He would not watch him go.

Besides, he could still smell him.

“I do not have a name” he said. “Whoever has killed while I was in custody is the real Chesapeake Ripper, and is probably vexed that I took credit for his murders. Maybe your Ripper is the same as your copycat. If you catch him, please greet him in my stead. He is an horrible person, but an admirable player of human beings.”

That being said he went for his bed, keeping his eyes closed, and sat neatly on its edge.

“It was nice seeing you again, William” he whispered. “Even though this is goodbye.”

There was silence, only the anxious scent of Graham in the air, and Hannibal waited for the sound of his footsteps on the leave.

Instead, Will approached the glass wall of his cell. “No” he answered, and this single syllable sent such a shiver down Hannibal's spine that he had to fight himself not to open his eyes again.

But he couldn't.

He wasn't sure what last image of William would imprint on them.

“I don't know if you're the Ripper or just a sidekick” Will said, “but that sentence at the trial wasn't just. We hadn't enough evidence, the jury convicted you unfairly. I am not giving up on the case.”

Hannibal nodded slightly. He wished to open his eyes now, maybe for just a peek, but they seemed glued together. Besides, nothing out here would top those last figments of photons he had collected.

Graham was hesitating to speak, Hannibal could hear it in his breathing.

“There has been another murder” Will stated in a low voice. “A white middle aged man dressed in a three piece suit, crucified at the tribunal the night after your trial. His mouth was sewn shut, but his eyelids sewn opened. While he was alive, obviously.”

Hannibal almost smirked. “I suppose he died of a stab in the back.”

A pause. Graham was resenting him for this.

“His flank was pierced” he said eventually. “Speared all the way up through the heart. He died of blood loss.”

“That Ripper seems to know me better than you do” Hannibal stated, amused at the irony.

He sensed William's uneasiness.

“Though I suppose some organs were removed?” Hannibal pointed out. “Something relevant, I suppose... the brain?”

“The liver.”

“Obviously.”

Hannibal wondered why Graham wasn't reacting to his closed eyes, but then remembered the man probably understood why he couldn't bring himself to watch. Maybe he didn't care.

“That seems a bit dry, though” Hannibal remarked. “Making a statement about me and the frailty of Justice? The actual Ripper isn't that... tacky. He would have made it all about himself.”

Graham didn't answered.

“There is something you are not telling me” Hannibal deduced. “Probably something more to the scene.”

“You would have made a good profiler” Graham answered.

“I will make a good convict.”

“I'm not sure this is as funny as you think it is.”

Hannibal smiled a little. He tried recording the sentence in his mind, to play it on repeat to brand it into his brain. He didn't know why. He just needed to. _I'm not sure this is as funny as you think it is._

“There were eyes” Graham stated. “From a previous victim of the Ripper. Nested in a judge's wig that was facing the body.”

_I'm not sure this is as funny as you think it is._

“The Ripper has quite a sense of humour.”

“Jack thinks it's an accomplice or a copycat.” _I'm not sure this is as funny as you think it is._

“Jack would believe anything that corroborates his fantasy of an avenged Miriam Lass.”

“Why did you kill her?”

“She came to my office, asked after a former patient of mine. Then she went. Quite a capable young woman. A tad like you; I might have liked her. Do you believe this latest crime was the doing of a impersonator?”

Graham fell silent.

“You know” Hannibal said softly. “I understand that you would trust evidence more than I. But that you would actually think I am capable of murder has been quite painful.”

“I am too involved when it comes to you” Graham answered after a pause. “I cannot trust my instinct. I have to rely on evidence.”

“Instinct is what makes you better than anyone else in the field” Hannibal reminded him.

“You could be manipulating me. I know you are clever enough.”

“Yes” Hannibal replied. “Yet I was fool enough to love a man who would think me capable of doing just that to him.”

He turned his head aside and decided to lay down, shutting off the conversation to go back to the Requiem.

The music seemed to surround him like the soft, immaculate interior of a coffin.

He wished for nothing else at the moment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter on Friday - things will start shaking up!


	10. Freed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal’s first meeting with Will after his release.

He was released.

Obviously, after it was proven that the Ripper what actually still at large, and the lack of evidence of his former trial put forward.

No newspaper's bias to influence the jury; he was free.

Chilton had almost thrown him out in spite.

Now he was outside the hospital; the guard Barney had helped him out and left him with a few encouraging words. He was alone, feeling the air move around him like a silver stroke, scenting flowers and trees, animals and minerals all around him, feeling the sun on his face.

He opened his eyes.

 

“Please Alana, don't worry. I will not mistake you for the Ripper. And I won't let Jack do that either. He manipulated us once, it is not going to happen again.”

“ _I know Will, I know. It's just... Well, I have seen what happened to Hannibal, and even though I seem unable to remember properly the events of my attack, I worry Jack is going to jump on that. You can understand that,_ _can't_ _you?”_

Will looked at the hospital's door, waiting for it to open, worried about it.

“You were probably drugged. Hallucinating. Anyway, we will check thoroughly anything new on the matter.”

“ _But you'll still be investigating me._ ”

“You'll be fine. Your place is clean anyway.”

“ _You've checked my house?!?_ ”

The door opened and Hannibal was out, wearing that same three piece suit he had coming in, and carrying a very small luggage as well as a thin white cane. Very neat and proper in that sad greyish street. Looking a tad like a forgotten kid, left up alone at school.

“I'll talk to you later, Al. Hannibal's out, I don't want to miss him.”

He hung up and got out of his car, looking at the older man all along, hurrying across the street to get to him before he could slip away.

But a slim woman with flamboyant hair got to Hannibal first.

“Hi” she greeted with a large smile. “I'm Freddie Lounds, we met already?”

“I remember” Hannibal answered. “Vividly. Your articles sent me to jail.”

“Proof of my influence” Freddie swimmingly answered. “Proof that I can be of service.”

“What are you doing here?” Will answered dryly, seizing Hannibal by the upper arm.

“Agent Graham, hi! What a surprise; came to pick up the pieces?”

“We don't have time for that” Graham said. “You know what, Freddie? Get lost.”

“I would like to listen to what she came to say” Hannibal stated. He avoided looking in William's general direction, feeling his hand like a burn on his arm.

“I came for an interview of course!” Freddie mused. “Tidy up your reputation by telling everyone about the tragic mistake we've all made.”

“This is not a good idea” Graham started, but Hannibal interrupted him.

“I would like that very much” he stated. “You will find my number in the book.”

“Great!” Freddie smiled, all false joy and real teeth. “See you soon, Doctor Lecter. Agent Mishap” she greeted on her way out.

Graham waited for her to be out of eavesdropping range before turning to Hannibal. “I'm sorry” he said. “I know that's not going to make up for any part of this, but I am, truly.”

“The part about distrusting me or the part about treating me like a vicious criminal?”

Will bit his lip. “There was evidence. And I erred. Badly. I know I didn't handle this well, and I have... almost no excuse. But you have to understand that –wait, screw that, forget about it.”

He sighed. “I missed you. That's about the whole of it. Every second you where in there and I was busy trying to figure if you were or not a bloody murderer, I really, truly missed you. I'm glad you're not the Ripper.”

Hannibal gritted his teeth together. “I would say I am glad too, only I got to live as him and he still runs free.”

“We'll catch him.”

Hannibal frowned, looking pained.

“I don't think I want to be around you right now, Will” he said.

Graham stroked his arm, lightly, his wrist, then gently kissed his hand. “I understand” he answered. “I'll give you space. Talk to me whenever you're ready.”

 _This might be never_ , Hannibal thought, but at the same time he felt the tingling on his knuckles, and was reminded in the flesh of who exactly was Will Graham.

“Take me home” he asked. “Stay with me until the sun rises.”

Will stroked his chest with the tip of his fingers.

“I am not leaving you again” he assured, kissing him gently. “I will make amends.”

“I'm just asking you to stay the night, and to not sell me back to the FBI in the meantime.”

Graham looked like he'd bit a lemon. “I'll try not to” he managed to answer.

Hannibal looked at the messy curls and beard and bright blue eyes then kissed his face.

Gods, he resented the man.

But he'd missed him.

He'd missed him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter on Wednesday! We’re nearing the end, garls!


	11. Freddie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie Lounds interviews Hannibal in order to help him rebuild his reputation. Or, more probably, to make a lot of views.

_Will_ _thrashed_ _in his bed, covered in sweat, wincing in pain. He wasn't sleeping, and he didn't think he would actually be able to. He hadn't been able to get a good night of sleep since... He couldn't recall._

_When Hannibal had been imprisoned, he had spent his nights playing hundreds of scenarios in his head, trying to determine_ _whether or not_ _he was the Ripper_ _. Most of the evidence indicated that was absolutely possible, even though his alibis_ _were_ _strong. And Hannibal's personality didn't go against the evidence._

_He turned to the side, watching at the empty place on the bed where the older man had_ _lain_ _a few times._

_To his surprise, he had discovered Hannibal was a cuddler. Not the sticky octopus type; the discreet, non-intrusive I'll-sleep-wrapped-up-in-your-warmth-please one_ _. Each time one of them had spent the night with the other, Will had woken up with the man curled next to his chest like a chilly bird in its nest. The fourth time, Hannibal had a arm slid around his waist, swiftly taken off as soon as he had awoken._

_Kisses_ _were_ _fine with Hannibal. Stroking too. Running soft hands across his back. But as soon as Will's fingers descended towards his hips, the man tensed and gently pried them away, usually distracting Will with the sweetest kiss._

_Graham had wondered about that. He questioned himself even more now that Hannibal was in prison. If Hannibal was the Ripper, were his... issues, based on sexuality?_

_Still on the bed, he mentally shook his head. No, too simple. Here, sexuality must be a syndrome, not the illness. Symptomatic of what, though?_

_He closed his eyes. Focused on their third night together, when he had tried to initiate a little more than gentle caresses._

_As they were kissing, Will had stroked the outside of Hannibal's thigh gently, waiting for the other's tenseness to recede to slid patiently higher until his hand could press against his bottom without him quivering at the touch. After a calculated amount of time, Will pushed Hannibal on his back and pressed his whole body on his._

_Anxiety, again; then relief, Hannibal clearly aroused by their actions. Will had thought with excitement this would be it. He'd given his lover a long, passionate kiss, run his fingers all over his heated body and, when the time was right, he had given a slow row of hips against his._

_Hannibal had arched back, closing his eyes and grinding his teeth to cut short a startled moan._

_When his eyes had opened again they were silently pleading, but not for more. His fingers were digging into Will's shoulders, maintaining him at distance. Graham could tell he wanted to talk, but wouldn't bring himself to do so unless his speech was under control. Will sighed and forced himself to roll onto his back next to the older man. He breathed in deeply, hissing through his teeth, trying to calm himself._

“ _I am sorry” Hannibal whispered next to him._

_Will didn't answer. He didn't want to be rude. After a time, he managed to ask: “why?”_

_He sensed Hannibal sit up next to him on the bed. “I wish you would bear with me a tad longer.”_

“ _I will, Hannibal, that's not the issue here!” Will had retorted, straightening up too. “Talk to me.”_

“ _I cannot... explain why this is difficult for me. It is.”_

“ _Your body doesn't seem to think it's that difficult. So this is about your mind. Do you even want this?”_

_The older man had looked away. “You know I'm extremely fond of you, Will.”_

“ _That's not what I asked.”_

_Hannibal had looked back at him. “I think I will sleep on the couch tonight, if you don't mind.”_

_That vexed Will. “Whatever” he answered laying back down, turning his back at him._

 

*

 

“I will send you the finished interview once I'm done putting it together” Freddie said. “Or” she added, deep in thought, “We could meet to talk about it in person. How would you like that?”

Hannibal pondered, then simply nodded.

“Great!” Freddie exclaimed. “Coffee shop? Your house? You know what, once I'm done with it I'll give you a call and we'll decide then, alright? Right. What we want is for our readers to root for you” she said, pouring sugar in her steamy mug. “For that I suggest a filmed interview. And I'll need to know you, the actual you, to put that together.”

Hannibal had ordered tea, and was hoping the thing wouldn't taste as dreadful as it smelled. The coffee shop was full, but Freddie had chosen an adequate place, far from the door and mostly shielded from sight.

Going out made Hannibal uneasy since the day he'd been insulted to his face and hit by eggs that an angry grocer man had thrown at him. Maybe a relative of the Ripper's victims.

“We need an angle” Freddie said. “Something that will break their ice cold hearts. You'd been working with the FBI, right?”

“Not directly, no. I was merely consulting for Agent Graham.”

“You were his therapist?”

Hannibal sent her a tired look. “We cannot mention that.”

She cocked her head. “Right, but that's good! That's actually very good. You and Graham were lovers, right?”

He blinked, startled.

“I would be an awful reporter if I hadn't stayed and spied on you on the day of your release” she explained.

“We cannot mention that either” Hannibal simply said.

“What, unprofessional relationship? No, that would be counter productive. I suggest going for a swifter angle: 'my close friend betrayed me' sounds good.”

“He was just doing his job.”

Freddie smiled. “And I'll be doing mine.”

 

“ _One of the chief of accusation was that you had access to the FBI cases. How long had you worked for the FBI?” Freddie Lounds asked her interviewee._

“ _I was a mere consultant” Hannibal answered. “I sometimes discussed cases with Agent Graham.”_

“ _Was he already wary of you then?”_

_Hannibal seemed queasy_ _. “No, we... were friends. Good friends, or so I thought. But he didn't mean to... He was only doing his work.”_

“ _I'm sure of it” Freddie answered, but anyone could tell she was lying. “Still, that your colleagues would turn on you so easily, it must have been hard.”_

_Hannibal tensed. “The Ripper had been very thorough” he answered cautiously. “It is only natural that they would investigate.”_

“ _So you don't resent them at all? They sent you to prison, knowing that you had had no opportunity to commit the Ripper's murders.”_

“ _They thought I had an accomplice” Hannibal answered._

“ _They messed up” Freddie retorted._

Jack paused the recorded interview and turned to his team. “She's making us look like idiots, and we do not need this kind of publicity right now. Will, how comes your precious doctor isn't home cooking pasta instead of badmouthing us on the Web?”

“We kinda deserve it, Jack” Will answered. “We _did_ mess up, and he has a reputation to rebuild. Also, he's not 'my precious doctor', thank you very much.”

“Really?” Jack retorted, tight-lipped. He fast-forwarded the interview then pressed the play button again.

“ _One of your colleagues, Agent Graham, went to fetch you when you were released from prison” Freddie was saying. “Was he trying to make amends, or is the FBI so scared of the bad reputation its mistake could raise it sent him to you as a watchdog?”_

_Hannibal stilled. He had clearly not thought about that option before. “He came to apologise” he answered eventually. “I do not think the FBI had anything to do with his coming.”_

“ _Will Graham is not only a FBI agent or a friend to you” Freddie asked bluntly –a picture of the kiss they had shared on the step of the prison made an appearance on-screen. “He worked on the case and was one of the persons who helped convicting you even though you are innocent. How do you feel about that?”_

As Hannibal didn't even seem startled at the question, Will instantly understood Freddie had filmed it later on and asked him something else during the interview. Probably the same thing, but for the first statement.

“ _I would rather not discuss it” Hannibal answered carefully. “Thinking about the whole ordeal is still quite upsetting.”_

“ _The FBI let him work a case even though his judgement would be impaired” Freddie reminded. “_ _Whether_ _they knew of your relationship or not, they were careless and thus convicted an innocent.”_

The next shot at Hannibal showed him clearly distraught –and Will knew Freddie had, again, replaced the original question by something else.

“ _I don't think so” Hannibal answered quietly, visibly making an effort to keep it together._

“ _Do you think the FBI could have started suspecting you as you were hired, and sent Agent Graham to investigate?” Freddie answered casually._

This was it. The question that had previously unsettled Hannibal. Then came the rest of his reaction.

“ _He wouldn't” he said, cut short by a rush of emotion. His eyes brightened, not in the good way. He had stilled, and Will saw him make a effort to breath calmly._

“ _How can you be sure of that?” Freddie asked sympathetically. “He investigated you and helped jail you without enough evidence.”_

“ _I think we should stay at that” Hannibal declared, standing up. “I would ask that you do not publish this last part.”_

“ _People deserve the truth, Dr Lecter. You deserve the truth.”_

“ _This could ruin Will's career” Hannibal retorted. “The FBI won't care that he's actually done his best on his case, as he always do. Right now they need a scapegoat, and if you keep focusing on him...”_

“ _Do you love him?” Freddie asked curiously._

_Hannibal stopped dead. His lower lip started to quiver and then, he simply went._

“That dick” Will muttered, imagining how good it would feel to cut Freddie Lounds in thousands of bloody pieces.

“Care to explain what we just saw, Will?” Jack asked, pausing the interview again.

“We just saw a piece of junk torturing my boyfriend” Will answered harshly. “And before you say anything, remember that the mere fact of putting me on the field is a liability. So don't start with how I compromised the case –I didn't need to be dating Hannibal to make a contestable recruit.”

Jack's chest expanded in preparation of raising his voice.

“You know what?” Will said. “I don't have time for this. Hannibal clearly needs me more than you do, and he'll be distraught by that interview. So I'm out. Bye.”

He didn't wait for anyone's answer to make his exit.

 

*

 

_The first thing Hannibal had noticed during prison nights was the cold. Not a freezing, bone-chilling cold; an insidious one, that crept under your clothes and_ _stayed_ _there, like the tingling of a thought you can't manage to shake off._

_You're in prison now. Alone. Lonely. Remember that._

_Hannibal had not slipped right back into his warm, comfortable life after being released. He still tended to wake up in the middle of the night, panting, terrified, surrounded by a deep, scorching feeling of loss._

_He had maintained control the first months of his stay in prison, before the hearing. He would go to sleep, tuck himself thoroughly under the covers, and go to his mind palace, wander in a sunny place._

_But maintaining appearances and strength of will can't always succeed._

_One night, he'd woken up before the lights. In darkness, and silence._

_At first, the feeling had only been an odd sensation of déjà vu._

_Then he'd remembered._

_Himself, tucked into bed just like that, staring at the ceiling, the silence of the house swallowing him like a huge, terrible mouth. His room was warm, but his heart felt cold._

_He touches the bandages on his arm, on his chest. If he closes his eyes long enough, if he stays still and mute, maybe he'll be dead instead of his parents. Maybe Mischa will be a ghost, and come back to him._

_The feeling of loneliness is paralysing._

_He knows his family is dead, that_ _they_ _died because of him; somehow, that feels like a punishment. They went because he misbehaved. He deserves this._

_Part of him wants to believe that they abandoned him because he made a mess. If he's good, they might come back._

_He's nine years old then; he knows this is but a fool's hope, but he truly wants to believe._

_When he wakes up in his cell, frozen to the bone with chilling silence, he remembers, and the feeling_ _is_ _like a blade running through his throat._

_He then wonders if Will left him because of something he did. It is difficult to believe the young man thinks him a murderer, so he ponders about that instead. The thought is petty, but pernicious._

_He remembers that time he pushed Will away because of the pleasure he was giving him, because he didn't deserve it._

_No, he thinks, he doesn't deserve_ _**this** _ _. Being imprisoned. Distrusted. For something he didn't do._

_He paid enough for his mistakes in the past; this is too much. His family went because of what he did; but now Will is gone, and he hadn't done a thing. This is unfair._

_He wakes up, takes in a gulp of air like a drowning man reaching the surface._

_Will's face is over his, concerned. “Hannibal? You're fine, alright? It's just a nightmare you're having. Ssshush, calm down.”_

_Hannibal hiccups, then shuts his mouth to contain the noise. He's panting; he hates it._

_Will is gently stroking his hair, pushing wet bangs aside. “You're fine” he whispers. “I've got you.”_

_The other man shakes his head lightly, eyes brightened by unshed tears. “How could you” he murmurs. “How could you.”_

_Will startles, and Hannibal rubs his face with a hand. He inhales deeply._

“ _I'm sorry Will. My sleep was quite troubled. I'll better go freshen up.”_

_He gets up but Will wraps his arms around his waist to stop him. The younger man presses brown curls against Hannibal's back, then raises his eyes up. “Don't. Please, Hannibal, don't. I know I let you down. You don't have to pretend I didn't. Don't run away.”_

_Hannibal stills. “I am not running away, William.”_

“ _You're growing apart from me.”_

“ _We are already...” He shuts. Being cared for, never left behind; those are but children's dreams. Hopes. Will would betray him, of course; he is but human._

_This is not about deserving. This is about settling._

_Will had broken his heart, but others would have, too. Being realistic meant admitting he wouldn't find anyone who wouldn't have._

_His parents would not come back, and neither would Mischa. People would assume he is a murderer, given enough incentive to do so. Will would leave._

_Someday,_ _**obviously** _ _, Graham will leave._

_Hannibal closed his eyes and slowly, oh so slowly, ran his fingers through the dark curls._

_For now, Will was there._

_He bent a little and got his underwear off, stood visibly naked for the first time in Graham's presence. Then he got back on the bed and laid himself in the middle, legs close together, one of them lightly bent up to preserve what was left of his decency. He ran fingers through his hair to straighten it up –he found it dishevelled._

_Then he looked at Will, who was watching him silently, stunned by his actions and slightly open-mouthed, his bright eyes very blue in dim light._

_Hannibal blinked once, slowly, and in a calm voice invited reality in_ _:_

“ _Would you?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lovely beta pointed out Will sounds a little mean during that first part with Hannibal. I agree with her, and I know we all think of Will as this incredibly sensitive, empathetic person (which he is). But I believe even the best empath needs a break from all the bullshit and can come out as cold or unsympathetic at times (especially after being very disappointed). Also, I wanted to show that their relationship was, well, a relationship. With stupid mood swings and insensitive reactions at times. Not matter how much you love someone, you ARE going to hurt them...
> 
> Next chapter on Friday! We’ll get to meet the Ripper! Yeay! (Or: not yeay! Depends on how you see that awful, awful person).


	12. The Chesapeake Ripper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ripper gets to Hannibal.

When the doorbell rang, Hannibal hesitated to answer. He cautiously made his way to the door and asked who it was.

“It's Lounds, Dr Lecter” a feminine voice answered from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”

Hannibal opened the door in irritation. “You deceived me” he said. “You weren't to publish anything about Will–”

“But people love you again” Freddie said, coming in without getting her jacket off. “And I'm sure you two lovers will work it out. You're alone?”

“Yes” Hannibal answered tiredly. “You know what this is going to do to his career.”

“You shouldn't worry about that” Freddie answered gently. “By the way, I'm only here to get my recorder back.”

She went straight for the stairs, fumbling in her handbag, and directed herself towards Hannibal's bedroom.

“You bugged _my home?_ ” Hannibal stated in dismay, following her closely.

“Of course not” Freddie answered, turning towards him with a smile.

Hannibal felt a pinch in the side of his neck, and his legs gave up under him.

“You've been very naughty, Dr Lecter” she stated casually. “Stealing my thunder, and Willy's attention, while it should be all focused on me.”

She slid her arm under the fallen man's own and slowly pulled him on the bed, then clicked her tongue in curious interest.

“What shall we do about that?”

 

Freddie Lounds was meticulous. She had put a plastic protection over her clothes, surgical gloves, and carefully tied up her red hair. Then she prepared the contents of her bag on the bed and hummed.

“What should we do first, Hannibal? Is it alright if I call you Hannibal? Of course it is.”

She chose a scalpel and sat near him on the bed. “You know, it's very rare for me to go after someone I interviewed. Yet it is a risk I am willing to take.”

Hannibal would have liked to answer, but he was entirely paralysed. He couldn't even move his eyes to follow her movements, and he had trouble breathing.

“I won't be cruel to you, Hannibal” the Ripper stated casually. “I won't need to.”

She took a small tupperware out of her handbag and opened it; the acrid smell of dead blood filled the room.

“This, is a stag's heart” she explained. “Big enough to resemble a human's own. Can you tell what I will do with it, dear?”

As Hannibal didn't answer, she smiled. “Of course not.”

She put the tupperware away and prepared her murder.

 

How long Hannibal waited in the bed, he couldn't have guessed. Whatever paralytic the Ripper had injected him had been strong enough to critically lower his heartbeats and rhythm of breath.

Each time his lungs slowly inflated anew, Hannibal wondered if they would be able to make it, go all the way up again and provide him with that much needed supply of air. It was painful, and terrifying.

Lounds had gone a while ago.

She hadn't lied. She hadn't hurt him much and, aside from a wet dull pain aching in his chest, he was uninjured.

It might have been seven in the afternoon when Hannibal heard a noise downstairs –probably Will coming back from work. He had promised he would come by, and Lounds had counted on it.

“ _I will make you presentable for dear Will_ ” she had said. “ _Gift-wrap you in blood and despair. He'll love it, I can tell_.”

“Hannibal?”

Will's voice echoed through the house, and Hannibal felt a rush of relief surge in him like a wave.

Soon, Will's head appeared through the doorframe of his room.

“Oh, here you are” the man sighed. He paused. “You asleep?” he added in a low voice, silently coming near the bed to check on that. He sat over the cover which hid the laying man's body and gently stroke his hair. “You know, sleeping with open eyes is usually seen as creepy.”

He frowned, and his hand went back to Hannibal's forehead. “You're really cold” he uttered, and Will jumped on his feet to get the cover off Hannibal's body.

He froze.

 _I'm alright, Will_ , Hannibal thought desperately. _I need help, I'm so cold. Please_.

Will started shaking his head, eyes widened, his whole body shaking.

Slowly, he climbed on the bed and sat, next to the laying corpse, which was folded on his side like a peaceful foetus.

A red, warm flower bloomed from the gaping wound in his chest, and his hands where joined in front of it, carrying his gleaming heart as an offering.

Hannibal felt Graham's trembling fingers on his hair, on his neck, reaching out of habit his pulse point.

“You can't be dead” Will said in a blank voice.

_I'm not, not yet, you need to get me to a–_

“You can't. You just can't. I can't lose you again.”

William lowered his head, pressed his forehead on Hannibal's shoulder, and wept.

He cried in silence for so long Hannibal started to feel the bite of a very bad kind of coldness creeping up his limbs. He fought to stay awake, but his mind had a tendency to blackout momentarily, pulling him towards infinite darkness.

_William,_ _**see** _ _. You have to see, I need you to see, you can't let the Ripper win this–_

Graham had finally gotten to his phone. “Jack.” His tone was blank an monotonous. “Hannibal's dead. He's at home and he's dead. His heart was ripped out.”

Jack probably answered something to that, but Will didn't seem to listen. “I don't know what to do” he whispered, letting his arm and the phone go. “I don't know what to do.”

Hannibal couldn't even manage to will him to notice anymore. He felt so cold now that the cover was gone, blood cooling inside his open wound.

Graham moved him gently on his back –dark blood poured out of the gash in his chest– and pressed a kiss on his freezing lips. “You'll be fine” he said. “I will care for you. You don't have to worry about a thing.”

His hand inadvertently plunged in Hannibal's cool blood. “I won't let the Ripper get away with this” he promised. “I'll catch him, and then I'll quit the FBI and we'll go together to Florence. You like Florence, right? We'll live there, under the sunny Italian sky. We'll be happy. Nothing bad will ever happen to you. I promise. I promise.”

Some noise in the background. The FBI arriving.

“Will.” Jack taking Graham away, the younger man resisting. Jack insisting. “We have to move fast, Will. Someone's told the press about this –Freddie Lounds is already waiting outside, ready to sneak in to take pictures; she wants to talk to you. And other vultures will arrive soon.”

“Have a break, we'll take it from here.” The concerned voice of Beverly.

Price and Zeller in the background. “Has he moved the body? Damn.” And, “Well this is going to be useless” –gesturing to the whole of the scene. “Better get them all out soon I suppose.”

Pictures being taken, samples. Hands on him, lifting his body.

Will sobbing, violently, grabbing at his hand.

_Don't cry, Will._

He didn't want to go if it was hurting him so.

A sharp pain in his side –someone taking his liver's temperature, trying to determine the time of death. “This reading doesn't make sense!” A whisper.

The crumpling of plastic and sound of a zipper –he was being enclosed in a black body bag. As light turned to darkness, he wished to close his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter on Wednesday -and as I didn’t tag this with « major character death », I’ll recommend you not to freak out and act very surprised if nobody actually dies. For instance: « How surprising. I was not expecting that at all. I am utterly shocked. Can I have more tea?"


	13. Hannibal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think we could summarize this by saying "fuck you, Freddie".

“Wait” Will said, suddenly shaken out of his shock. “What did you say?”

“I said those readings didn't make sense” the forensic doctor answered. “The outside body's quite cold, but the insides aren't. They only dropped a few degrees, which would mean he has _just_ been killed.”

“He's not dead.”

Jack turned his head towards Will at that. “Excuse me?”

“He's not dead. Check on him. Somebody check on him!”

“His heart his missing” Jack told Will slowly.

“No it's not!” Will ran to the body bag and unzipped it, checking on the gaping chest wound. “Is there a doctor –you! What about that wound?”

The doctor hesitated. “The chest was opened.”

Will took skin with his fingers and pulled on it.

The doctor reacted immediately. “I need the reanimation team ASAP. You apply pressure on the wound. There is no pulse, no apparent breathing... somebody get me a stethoscope!”

A surge of oxygen awoke Hannibal on the spot. Sweet, desirable air! He couldn't be sure, but it felt like Will on his mouth, trying something desperate to revive him.

He wouldn't have been able to describe what truly happened next. His memory registered only fragments of lights and noises. At some point, he felt the sharp pinch of a needle in his chest –they had probably not dared to give him any anaesthetic without knowing precisely what was paralysing his system, but he blissfully dozed out from pain.

Next thing he new he was waking up in an hospital bed, intubated and wired to some medical equipment his tired mind couldn't recognise. His hand was warm. Somebody must have been holding it for some time.

“The medics said he would be waking up shortly” Will was saying. “But his state is still critical, and we shouldn't tire him. I'm not even supposed to be here, so you should go. You did enough damage already.”

“Damage?” The mocking voice of Freddie Lounds resounded in the room –which was a bad thing, though Hannibal couldn't remember exactly why. “I restored his reputation! Readers feel so guilty to have doubted him now that I have revealed everything about his tragic past and your betrayal... Unless you're meaning to say restoring his reputation at your expense was too high a price to pay?”

“Just go, Lounds. He needs rest.”

Freddie approached the bed instead. Hannibal saw her lean in slightly over him, and couldn't refrain a chill.

She wasn't supposed to be here.

“A picture” she said. “I'll snap a little shot of our sleeping beauty here and be on my way.”

“You're going _now_ ” Graham snapped, annoyed. “How the hell did you even pass the guards?”

“Yes, about them” Freddie said –and suddenly Hannibal _remembered_.

He heard an increase of the bips in the machine which was monitoring his heart.

“He's awake” Will whispered, hopeful joy trembling in his voice. “Hannibal? Do you hear me?”

Hannibal was watching Lounds.

She had seen his eyes open, and was now considering him with curiosity.

He lifted a hand to get the respiratory tube out of his mouth and lungs, but Will caught it. “We'll better call a nurse for that, alright?”

Freddie smirked, and Hannibal's biping heart panicked. He tried again to pull on the respiratory tube, but now Freddie's hands were on his.

“You're right, he shouldn't pull that out by himself. Where's that button meant to call for help? Ah, here.”

Maintaining one of Hannibal's struggling hand in hers, she pushed on the device. “Isn't it supposed to make a noise?” she asked, acting confused. “Like a bip or light or something?”

As Hannibal was thrashing to get free, Will barely spared a glance towards her.

“Maybe it's broken” she said, and Will let out a cry of irritation.

“Don't let him get hurt” he ordered, handing her Hannibal's other hand and going to the door to call for help.

As soon as he had his back to them, Freddie smirked at her prisoner. “Oh, I'm not here to hurt you” she whispered. “I'm just here to watch.”

Her smile grew larger as she added: “Though if you mention anything about our little encounter, I'll gut Will right here in front of you. Is that clear?”

Hannibal froze, his heart still pounding in panic.

“That's my boy” she grinned. “Mr Graham? I think he calmed down. Is that nurse coming?”

“Yep, a member of the staff went to fetch one. I don't know where those stupid guards are, Jack will hear about that!” Will answered with irritation, coming back to them. “How are you?” he asked Hannibal. “Fine?”

Hannibal hesitated, then nodded weakly.

“Good” Will sighed in relief. “We'll be getting this tube out of you. Please bear with it just a tad longer, alright? Lounds, you can let him go now.”

Freddie looked at her hands as she hadn't noticed she was still grabbing Hannibal's. “Oh. Yes. Yes.”

She let go.

The nurse arrived almost immediately afterwards, checked on Hannibal's readings before getting the tube out of his trachea. “How are you feeling?” he asked his patient. “Alright? Good.”

“The help button seems broken” Lounds told him, showing the device.

“We'll check on that” the nurse answered. “Don't talk too much” he added, talking to Hannibal. “A Doctor will come to check on you in about twenty minutes or so.” Then he went.

“You should go too” Will told Lounds.

“Oh, but that would make a fantastic article! 'Reunion on the brink of death', such a grand title. Dr Lecter agrees with me, doesn't he?”

She sent him an eloquent glance. He cringed a little, then nodded.

“That's bullsh–” Will sighed. “Alright. Fine. As you wish.” He put his chair next to Hannibal's head and kissed his hand. “You alright?”

Hannibal sent him a longing glance.

“It's over” Will murmured. “We didn't catch the Ripper, but we're on his trail. We'll have him soon, and I'm not letting you out of my sight until we do. You're safe.”

Hannibal closed his eyes. “Will?”

“Yes?”

“Have I ever said that I love you?”

Graham let a few seconds flow.

“I suppose you just did” he answered softly.

Hannibal opened his eyes back, and smiled weakly. “Could I ask a favour of you?”

His tone was a little hesitant.

“Anything you want.”

“I am very thirsty. Could you bring me some refreshment –an orange juice, perhaps?”

Will kissed him gently. “Of course.” He got up, and Hannibal couldn't help but press his hand in his. He was so tired and weakened he couldn't very well control his expressions; he knew his distress was showing. “Come back soon” he said, trying to explain the expression by some sort of natural paranoia born from post traumatic stress. Graham nodded.

Then he turned to Freddie Lounds.

“You're coming with me” he demanded. “Out, now.”

“Will” Hannibal uttered nervously.

“I'm not leaving you alone with some maniac” Will replied.

“I must talk to her” Hannibal said, trying to sound convincing.

“Trust me, I'm not afraid of Mister Stab In The Back here” Freddie told Hannibal, getting up. “I'm sure he and I can have a meaningful conversation as you recover from waking up.”

She grinned towards Hannibal, who suddenly understood he had no way of protecting Will. If he told the guards what he knew, Freddie would know, and kill Graham. But if he stayed silent, Will was still in danger.

“You're acting weird” Will said, looking at Hannibal with concern.

The older man felt his heart cringe.

“I didn't have the best day” he replied, trying to sound casual.

“Did you see your attacker?” Freddie asked eagerly. “I'd love to have the exclusive.”

Hannibal swallowed. “I saw... the Ripper” he answered cautiously. “But I will not reveal their identity to a member of the press. The FBI shall have this privilege.”

“Ah come on!” Freddie whined. “He's probably planning to silence you as soon as he can. You would die without telling anyone? Really?”

“Freddie, shush” Will demanded. “Let's get that juice.”

Hannibal suddenly felt a buzzing in his hears, getting louder and louder. He thought it was panic, so he tried to block it out even though it burnt.

He couldn't think straight though.

“Can't Lounds fetch it by herself?” he asked, trying to focus on the situation rather than on the increasingly painful sensation tingling in his arm. “If the guards aren't at the door, I'd rather you stay.”

“You're not getting rid of me that easy” Freddie pouted, sounding offended.

“Just... get out” Will told her, going back to Hannibal. “What's wrong?”

“I'm fine” the man answered –but right then, he knew he wasn't. “Infusion line” he realised, his hand darting towards the needle to pull it out.

Will jumped on the help button and remembered it didn't work. “Go fetch help!” he cried towards Freddie, who was contemplating them curiously from the door.

Which she closed.

“I'd rather see what you will do” she replied calmly, with a smile.

“What?”

“She's the Ripper, Will” Hannibal murmured, trying to control the pain that was flowing through him. “Please don't let her kill you.”

Will's eyes opened wide in realisation, but by the time he'd started to turn towards the door again, Lounds was right near him, with a scalpel plunged in his gut –blood pouring all over.

“Remarkable boy” she purred as William's stunned blue eyes darted up to meet hers. “I wish we had more time to interact; I would have loved to see your grieving face. You know, maybe we can still have that.”

She glanced meaningfully at Hannibal, whose mind was but a mingle of redness and pain, before turning back towards Will with a grin.

“I think I'll eat your heart.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left! Nobody’s dead, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t be in a coma (yes, I’m being horrible on purpose). 
> 
> After this story, we’ll go study another not-a-murderer Hannibal, with a regular-nightmare Will, and my favorite part, which is the Murder Family! (with no murders). Including Alana/Bev, Abigail being a sassy teenager, and my Papannibal kink of Hannibal being very sweet to his sister Mischa. 
> 
> See you Friday for the finale!


	14. Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of our epic tale of angsty angst.

When Hannibal woke up again, he was still laying in an hospital bed. For a second, he wondered if he'd not always been laying in bed, and if his life as a FBI consultant had been a mere dream.

A warm hand was pressing his. _Déjà vu_.

“Alana” he whispered when his eyes came to focus. He wasn't intubated.

“Yes, Hannibal. How are you?”

The man tried to gather his ideas.

“I'm sorry I ever suspected you of being the Ripper” he said.

“Me too.”

A silence. He hesitated, then swallowed nervously. “How is...”

“Will. He's resting” she told him, gesturing to a nearby bed where Graham was peacefully sleeping.

“We put you both in the same room. It's easier to guard.”

“And... Lounds?”

“She escaped” Alana answered quietly. “Will managed to wound her though. And Jack had the brilliant idea to check on everything she could have touched – or you would have died that same day, thanks to that slow poison in your IV. I'm pretty sure she'd actually come to watch it happen by herself, and see Will witness your death without knowing, at first, it was murder.”

“Is William alright? She stabbed him.”

Alana stroke his hand gently. “He's fine. Luckily, it all happened in an hospital.”

Hannibal sighed, then winced in pain as breathing pulled on his stitches. “I don't understand why she did not simply kill me.”

“I believe she wanted to give Will a chance to save you. Or, more accurately, for him to know that he _could_ have saved you, and failed.”

“A set up. But how did she manage to mess with my IV? I did not see her touch it when she came to visit.”

Alana cringed. “One of the nurses is missing. We believe the Ripper used him in some way – maybe influenced him to poison you, or simply used his knowledge and access to come here and do it herself.”

Hannibal closed his eyes. He felt tired. “She went to admirable lengths merely to hurt William” he murmured.

“You look exhausted. You should rest.”

“Alana...” he whispered, fighting to stay awake.

“Yes?”

But he was sleeping.

 

“They haven't caught the Ripper.”

“I don't think they will” Graham answered. “Freddie's clever. She's probably out of the country by now.”

“She wanted you. I am not sure in what way, but she did. She might still be in the US.”

“I'm pretty sure she isn't, Hannibal” Will answered gently. “And even if she is, we will now be ready for her.”

Hannibal cringed. “I do not like the idea of my house, let alone my office, being under surveillance.”

“You have no say in this” Graham reminded. “I'm not letting her cut your heart out for real this time. How are you feeling, by the way?”

“I am fine, William.”

Will gave him a concerned look. “I wasn't talking about your wounds.”

His former therapist inclined his head slightly. “I am coping. Please do not worry about me. You have been attacked too.”

“I haven't been imprisoned unfairly. I haven't been suspected by people I trusted. I know you haven't forgiven me, Hannibal.”

The older man quietly straightened his clothes. “We should not look back towards what is past, but look forwards to a brighter future.”

Will turned to face him, angrily. “When will you ever tell me my truths? When will you say how much I hurt you? I deserve this, Hannibal; and even more importantly, you do. Let it out.”

“William” Hannibal answered as a sort of warning.

“Don't. I messed up. Just admit it, say it. Tell me how much I hurt you. If you don't say it, it's going to hang between us like a blade of poison.”

“It is irrational. I cannot blame you for suspecting me as evidence was against me.”

“Your brain doesn't care about rational. It doesn't matter how much you want it to. So please. Tell me if this is gonna work. If you can ever forgive me. If we're done for, or if we can patch things up eventually. Tell me if there's hope for us.”

Hannibal hesitated.

“Say you resent me” Will demanded. “Say it. Your own words will follow.”

The older man sighed, knowing it was the rational thing to do.

“I resent you” he replied. “For believing I would murder people. For being so harsh to me even though you did not have sufficient proof to. For letting me down.”

Will's face blanched slightly at his words, but he hold on, waiting for the rest.

“I resent you for being human” Hannibal added, softly. “For erring, like everyone else does. It is not rational.”

Will put his hands on Hannibal's shoulders. “Can you forgive me?”

Hannibal's lips tightened. “I don't know. I hope so.”

Graham sighed, and gently pressed his lips against the other man's. “I want you to know that I'll do my best not to disappoint you again. I'll stand for you even if you _do_ become a vicious murderer. Even if you kill someone right in front of me. I won't make that mistake again, I won't risk losing you. I really love you, Hannibal.”

Hannibal shivered. Even if he couldn't believe those words, they felt good. He allowed himself to be embraced.

“Do you think you can ever love me back?” Will asked in a low voice. “Not now, but in time, years from now, maybe. Do you think that can happen?”

The other man couldn't help a bitter smile. “Perhaps.”

 _I already do_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my Beta left adorable comments, such as "awwww, this is really sweet and in character, but I'm not sure this is the lesson I want Will to learn! ». Follow Toft’s advice garls, don’t stick for murderous boyfriends (even if they’re cute). 
> 
> Also, here’s what’s next in two points:  
> -A 2 chapters sequel, for who can bear more angst (that will not be posted right away, but as an entr’acte for the next fic).  
> -The next fic, where Will Graham is rude, and Hannibal his sex therapist slash escort. (Yes, there is some kinky smut in that one. Just don’t expect it to pop up in the first sentence. Or second one (you thought you could fool me, eh?). And the MURDER FAMILY and MISCHA and ABIGAIL i miss u babe and ALANA, BEVERLY and lots of sass). So stay tuned! 
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you had a good read and thanks for sticking along for the ride! I had a really good time talking to you in the comments, some of them totally made my days : )


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